UC-NRLF 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF. CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


I  SBnrhq* 


THE  DRACHENFELS 

on  ike    RHINE,       :ie    s-u. 


A  BUCKEYE  ABROAD; 


OR, 


fflanimnga  in  Cttrnpt,  anfo  in  tji* 


BY 

SAMUEL  S.  COX. 


"  The  Utopians  imagine  that  HK,  as  all  inventors  of  curious  engines,  has  exposed  to  our 
view,  this  great  machine  of  the  Universe,  we  being  the  only  creatures  capable  of  con 
templating  it"— Sir  TJionias  More's  Utopia. 


NEW-YOKK: 
P.    PUTNAM,    155    BEOADWAY, 

MD.CCC.LII. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1852, 

BY  GEORGE  P.  PUTNAM, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New- York. 


JOHN  P.  TROW, 

printer  anti  .Strrcotsper, 

49,  ANN  STHBET. 


(Li 


PREFACE. 


A  BOOK  of  travels  is  no  longer  a  book  of  marvels.  There 
remains  but  small  portions  of  terra  incognita.  Asia  and  the 
Americas  are  pouring  in  their  tributes  to  the  curiosity  of  this 
locomotive  age.  Africa,  even,  in  the  page  of  Cummings  and 
others,  peers  from  behind  her  veil  of  mystery,  and  the  Arctics 
are  melting  their  frigid  bonds,  to  flow  in  the  channels  of  litera 
ture.  The  only  merit  reserved  for  a  volume  of  travels  is,  either 
that  the  ground  is  untrodden,  or  that  the  mode  of  observation 
is  new  and  peculiar.  The  author  can  lay  no  claim  to  the  for' 
mer.  Something  may  be  conceded  to  him,  from  the  fact  im 
ported  by  the  title — A  Buckeye  Abroad.  A  native  of  the 
west,  and  of  that  part,  familiarly  known  as  the  Buckeye  State, 
— may  be  supposed  to  look  upon  the  scenes  and  mingle  with 
the  throngs  of  the  Old  World  with  new  and  peculiar  sensations, 
which  may  find  sympathy,  if  not  with  the  general  reader,  at 
least  with  readers  in  Ohio.  Indeed  it  was  such  an  interest  at 
home  that  called  for  the  revision  and  the  publication  of  these 
passages  of  travel.  They  embrace  a  tour  through  France,  Italy, 
Germany,  Belgium,  Scotland,  England  and  Ireland ;  delightful 
sojournings  at  Rome,  Naples,  Malta,  Venice,  Athens,  Smyrna, 


M30S111 


5  PREFACE. 

Constantinople,  Geneva,  and  amid  the  Alps ;  and  observations 
along  the  Mediterranean,  amidst  the  isles  of  Greece. 

The  pleasure  of  travelling  was  enhanced  by  companionship. 
We  numbered  four  in  our  company,  two  ladies  and  a  gentle 
man,  Mr.  Philo  Buckingham,  and  myself — just  the  number  for 
convenience  and  unity  of  movement,  as  well  as  for  pleasure. 
The  time,  too,  was  propitious.  The  year  1851  may  be  truly 
called  annus  mirabilis,  at  least  so  far  as  travellers  were-con- 
cerned.  The  Great  Exhibition — that  novel  phaze  of  our  civil 
ization —  was  enough  to  entitle  the  year  to  the  honor,  as  o 
special  wonder. 

Each  observer  is  a  type  of  a  large  class  of  observers, 
mankind  generally ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  accounted  egotistical 
that  the  writer  perpetually  speaks  of  himself.  Of  neces 
sity  he  must  use  his  own  senses  and  reason ;  but  through 
these,  others,  especially  if  educated  an4  governed  by  similar 
influences,  may  perceive  and  reflect,  by  virtue  of  the  common 
vinculum,  which  binds  mankind  together.  The  impressions 
herein  recorded  were  mostly  taken  upon  the  spot,  and  the  allu 
sions,  historical,  classical,  or  otherwise,  were  not  sought  for,  but 
sprung  out  of  the  time  and  locality.  Each  lineament  of  each 
form  in  Nature  or  Art,  each  custom  and  characteristic  were 
daguerreotyped,  though  somewhat  rapidly,  if  not  imperfectly, 
from  the  original,  as  it  appeared  in  itself  and  in  its  environ 
ment.  Well  knowing  the  inferior  rank  in  literature  to  which  a 
work  of  this  kind  is  entitled,  I  reluctantly  commit  it  to  the 
public,  trusting  that  it  may  be  read  as  it  was  written,  more  for 

enjoyment  than  profit. 

S.  S.  C. 

ZANESVILLE,  OHIO,  Jan.  1,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAP.  PAGB 

i. — Over  the  Sea,  and  Hail  to  England,  ....  9 

n. — The  Commercial  Metropolis  and  Rural  Scenery,  .  .  .22 
m. — The  Brittle  Wonder  and  a  Royal  Chase,  .  /  .  .  28 
rv. — An  English  Saturnalia,  .  .  .  '  Vt  .  .  .  .42 

v. — The  Commons, 51 

vi. — Under  the  Crystal  and  in  the  Park, 59 

vn. — Westminster  and  Dover, 71 

vm. — France, — An  Entry  and  an  Exit, 76 

DC — The  Home  of  Columbus, 95 

x. — Rome, — Living  and  Dead, 104 

XL — Naples, — Its  Loveliness  and  Horror, 159 

xn. — Naples, — Its  Gayety  and  Desolation, 170 

xm. — Sicily  and  Malta, 185 

xrv.— Athens,— The  Eye  of  Greece, 193 

xv. — Home  of  Homer, 209 

xvi.-r-The  Heart  of  Mahometanism, 214 

xvn. — A  Lady's  Verdict  upon  the  Orient, 224 

xvm. — The  Turkish  Body  Politic  in  its  Picturesque  Dress,         .         .  241 

xix. — Oriental  Luxury,  and  Classic  Isles, 254 

xx.— The  City  of  the  Sea, 265 

xxi. — Lombardy, — The  Garden  of  the  World,       ....       275 

XXIL — Crossing  the  Alps, 287 

xxra.— Through  the  Te^te  Noir  to  Mont  Blanc,        .        .        .        .299 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

xxiv. — The  Ice-Sea, 305 

xxv. — In  and  around  Geneva, 315 

xxvi. — Upon  the  Confines  of  Switzerland, 324 

xxvu. — Fatherland, 329 

xxvm. — Down  the  Rhine  and  over  to  "Waterloo,          ....  339 

xxix— The  French  Capital, 347 

YYY, — London, — in  other  phases, 361 

xxxi. — The  Great  Exhibition  Revisited, 371 

xxxn. — Windsor  Scenes  and  Sports, 378 

xxxm. — Avon, — Shakspeare's  Home 386 

xxxrv. — A  glance  at  Ireland, 891 

xxxv. — Scotch  Scenery  and  Genius, 398 

XXXVL — Crossing  the  Border,  and  the  Old  Abbeys,  ....  407 
xxxvn. — English  Husbandry,  and  the  Beauty  of  Chatsworth,  .  .  423 
xxxvin. — The  Buckeye  for  Home, .  434 


A  BUCKEYE  ABROAD. 


(tor  tjp  $?a  atii  lail  in  fnglmifr* 

"  Hey  boys !  she  scuds  away,  and  by  my  head  I  know, 
We  round  the  world  are  sailing  now, 
What  dull  men  are  those  who  tarry  at  home, 
When  abroad  they  might  wantonly  roam, 
And  gain  such  experience  and  spy  too 
Such  countries  and  wonders  as  I  do." 

Cowley. 

NO  one  can  contemplate  a  long  sea  voyage  to  distant  lands 
without  foreboding.  To  a  native  of  the  west,  unaccustomed 
to  the  ocean,  and  only  glancing  at  its  terrors,  through  a  dim  and 
often  distorted  medium,  a  journey  over  its  troublous  bosom 
is  trebly  fearful.  Pluck  up  what  courage  he  may,  yet  the  heart 
will  quail  when  the  hour  approaches,  in  which  to  sever  connec 
tion  with  the  stable  earth.  Upon  this  merry  May  morning,  as 
we  are  preparing  to  board  our  steamer,  there  is  a  sort  of  "  fear 
ful  looking  for"  the  terrors  of  the  deep.  This  is  entirely  unne 
cessary,  at  least  for  the  first  three  hours.  Yet  I. would  not  be 
deprived  of  this  semi-melancholy  and  this  semi-terror  which 
enshroud  the  mind  before  a  long  sea  voyage.  Madame  de  Stael 
has  remarked,  very  truthfully,  that  it  is  a  great  trial  to  leave 
1* 


10  OVER   THE  SEA  AND  HAIL  TO  ENGLAND. 

one's  country,  when  one  must  cross  the  sea.  There  is  such  so 
lemnity  in  a  pilgrimage,  the  first  steps  of  which  are  on  the 
ocean.  It  seems  as  if  a  gulf  were  opening  behind  you,  and  your 
return  becoming  impossible.  How  can  it  be  otherwise  to  us 
western  folk,  whose  visions  have  been  circumscribed  by  hills  and 
forests,  rivers  and  plains  ?  The  round  "  dim  inane"  of  the  ocean 
horizon  already,  to  the  mind's  eye,  fills  the  imagination  with 
the  terror  which  springs  from  vagueness.  In  such  a  stretch  of 
the  sight,  not  only  the  eye,  but  thought  even  is  lost.  Sugges 
tions,  connate  with  those  which  the  idea  of  death  prompts,  arise 
in  the  soul. 

And  yet,  for  all  these  imaginary  as  well  as  real  experiences 
of  ill,  what  a  compensation  has  the  traveller,  in  the  anticipation 
of  standing  upon  the  shores  of  the  old  world,  with  its  scenes  of 
renowned  enchantment  and  heroic  deeds,  with  its  very  dust 
golden  with  historic  memory  !  It  is  well  to  be  shut  out,  as  if  by 
a  wall  of  brass,  from  old  and  familiar  things,  to  enjoy  such  hal 
lowed  and  hallowing  scenes. 

Severed  from  familiar  objects  by  an  abyss  of  water,  more 
formidable  than  brass,  it  will  be  mine  to  transcribe  the  observa 
tions  and  thoughts  which  these  scenes  inspire. 

The  contrasts  which  a  sea  voyage  present  are  not  unworthy 
of  some  note,  especially  as  we  have  not  the  opportunity,  as  yet, 
to  tread  in  the  path  of  antiquity — to  gather  moss  from  its  ru 
ined  monuments  and  crumbling  towers — to  forget  the  ordinary 
experiences  of  every-day  life,  and  to  wrap  ourselves  in  the  sha 
dowy  mantle  of  the  past. 

"We  left  the  dock  at  Jersey  City  upon  a  fine  day.  The  sun 
shone  mildly.  A  light  breeze,  which  had  not  power  to  curl  a 
single  snow-wreath,  played  in  the  harbor.  All  aboard.  The 
deck  was  thronged  with  passengers  and  their  friends  to  bid 
them  "  good  tye."  The  boat  is  cleared  of  all  save  the  passen 
gers,  and  we  move  out,  how  proudly,  from  our  mooring.  The 
crowd  on  the  dock  cheer  us  ;  our  guns  answer  with  a  quiver  and 
a  report.  Away  we  dash — past  the  Battery  and  down  the  bay  ! 


0  VER   THE  SEA  AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND.  \  \ 

A  few  tears  from  the  ladies  ;  a  few  farewell  wavings  of  handker 
chiefs,  and  New-York  begins  to  die  away  in  the  distance.  The 
Battery  becomes  an  indistinct  clump  of  foliage.  The  forest  of 
masts  becomes  pencilled  so  fine  as  to  seem  but  one  mark ;  the 
land  soon  fades  into  a  blue  sky,  and  we  are  afloat ! 

For  the  first  few  hours  the  fresh  air  of  the  salt  sea  and  the 
novel  situation,  afford  agreeable  excitement.  The  frame  qui 
vers  with  a  new-born  delight.  The  soul  sweeps  the  horizon 
with  a  larger  circuit  and  a  bolder  wing.  The  Old  World  al 
ready  looms  up  in  the  East,  a  glorious  promise  to  the  Eye  of 
Hope! 

Soon  we  hail  a  vessel,  and  let  off  the  pilot.  The  little  boat 
drops  astern,  amid  the  foam  of  our  wake,  and  the  steamer  again 
throbs  on  its  way.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  a  singular 
phenomena — singular  at  least  to  our  Buckeye  eye — appeared. 
There  was  a  something  spouting  salt  water  against  the  sky !  It 
proved  to  be  a  whale — a  live  Jonah-swallowing  king  of  the 
deep  !  We  lingered  upon  deck  to  watch  the  sun  sink  in  splen 
dor.  The  process  of  setting  sail  began,  with  the  cheery  songs 
and  cries  of  the  sailors.  A  west  wind  is  coming  along  to  add 
to  our  velocity  and  give  exhilaration  to  our  spirits. 

Exhilaration?  If  you  could  only  have  seen  your  new- 
fledged  traveller,  from  that  time  forward  up  to  the  time  when 
he  first  seized  this  pen,  you  would  have  found  him  a  perfect  em 
bodiment  of  inverted  exhilaration.  He  began  to  experience  all 
the  seven-fold  horror  of  the  sea.  Oh!  this  rolling,  rolling, 
straining,  creaking,  pitching,  and  tossing!  all  day — all  night. 
When  will  this  voyage  end  ?  He  begins  to  count  the  hours, 
and  measures  them  by  groans.  Eating  ?  Horrible  !  All  that 
he  can  do  is  to  take  down  beef-tea,  porridges  and  soups,  and 
such  other  watery  aliment,  only  fit  for  the  spectre  of  Melancholy. 
Old  Burton  must  have  been  upon  the  sea,  when  he  wrote  the 
couplet : 

"All  other  griefs  to  this  are  jolly, 
Naught  so  damned  as  Melancholy." 


12  OVER   THE  SEA   AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND. 

"  Have  any  thing  to-day,  Sir,"  Bays  our  excellent  servant 

John  : "  No  !"  is  the  unmannerly  retort.  Imprisonment  in  the 

meanest  county  jail,  on  bread  and  water,  with  whippings  hourly, 
would  be  heaven  to  this.  And  then  the  idea  of  coming  back.  I 
lay  whole  days  thinking  of  it — wondering  if  there  could  not  be 
found  some  short-cut  over  Bering's  straits.  No  matter  for  bad 
roads  and  cold  weather,  so  it  is  mother  earth — give  us  EARTH, 
Zealand  or  Greenland.  Only  let  this  heaving  instability  cease. 

Washington  Irving  never  said  a  truer,  yet  in  some  respects  a 
less  true  thing,  than  when  he  called  the  Ocean  a  blank  page, 
separating  two  worlds.  It  may  be  blank  ;  but  like  the  pages 
between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  it  affords  a  resting-place 
for  the  mind,  wherein  to  contemplate  the  wonders  and  majesty 
of  the  Creator.  It  affords,  too,  a  space  for  the  solemn  records 
of  "  Deaths,"  and  sometimes  of  "  Births,"  of  which  latter,  our 
good  ship  received  an  addition  when  three  days  out.  But  to 
my  thinking,  this  page  is  written  all  along  significantly.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  I  have  been  gazing  out  into  the  ocean, 
drinking  in  its  roar  and  its  sublimity;  though  I  confess  to 
drinking,  in  certain  peculiar  moments,  divers  quantities  of  the 
beverage  it  affords— slightly  warmed.  To  come  home  to  our 
subject,  I  have  be.en  a  victim,  by  no  means  a  solitary  one,  to 
the  god  of  the  Trident.  I  will  not  say,  that  he  has  used  me 
peculiarly  unkind  ;  for  daily,  since  my  body  assumed  its  per 
pendicularity,  have  I  seen  others  coming  from  their  berths,— 
pictures  of  Spencer's  Image  of  Despair,  or  rather,  resembling 
rats  emergent  from  holes  into  which  young  Nimrods  had  been 
pouring  warm  water.  For  over  a  week  has  my  poor  system  ex 
perienced  what  never  before  it  experienced,  and  (how  I  fear !) 
may  again  experience.  But  this  is  a  part  of  the  royal  game  of 
travel.  It  is  this  experience  which  is  written  in  illuminated 
characters  all  over  Irving's  blank  page. 

I  would  advise  every  one  who  thinks  of  crossing  the  sea,  to 
provide  a  cast-iron  stomach  ;  or  else  procure  some  preparation, 
by  which  that  sensitive  part  of  our  organism  may  be  rendered 


OVER   THE  SEA  AND  HAIL  TO  ENGLAND.  13 

ex  tempore  insensible.  I  am  aware  that  there  is,  on  land,  some 
strong  prejudices  against  sea-travelling,  on  account  of  sea-sick 
ness.  I  had  some  misgivings  myself.  They  fell  so  far  short, 
however,  of  the  reality,  as  to  work  great  injustice  to  the  power 
of  Old  Neptune. 

I  would  not  undertake  to  tell  precisely  the  treatment  which 
Dr.  Atlantic  prescribed.  The  day  after  I  came  aboard,  I  inad 
vertently  caught  him  assuming  the  office  of  ^Esculapius,  taking 
a  diagnosis  of  my  case,  and  pressing  home  the  remedy  with  a 
summariness  not  exceeded  by  the  sharpest  practice  of  another 
learned  profession.  The  unremitting  vigilance  and  care  of  my 
"  big  medicine-man"  cannot,  in  my  present  state,  be  too  highly 
lauded.  That  he  has  suffered  me  to  sleep — a  little,  almost  suf 
fuses  my  eyes  with  gratitude.  Dr.  Sangrado  prescribed  a  rem 
edy  for  all  diseases,  so  simple  as  to  have  become  classical — 
blood-letting  and  warm  water.  Our  Doctor  disdains  the  for 
mer.  The  latter,  I  am  pleased  to  say,  has  been  adopted  in 
these  latitudes  (with  an  addition  of  the  saline),  with  good  effect. 
The  fact  that  I  am  able  to  write  on  this  eighth  day  out,  is 
evidence, 

Clear  as  a  fountain  in  July, 

that  a  searching  potency  has  been  exercised,  which  places  Medi 
cine  upon  the  topmost  sparkle  of  the  wave  of  science. 

A  person  after  emerging  from  the  Hades  of  sea-sickness,  is 
for  ever  after  a  privileged  community  in  himself.  He  has  cer 
tain  irrepealable  franchises,  among  which  are  freedom  of  speech, 
I  wish  I  could  say  "  free  soil."  FREE  SOIL  !  I  am  a  great  free- 
soiler,  just  now.  G-ive  me  soil,  that  is  all  I  ask,  whether  it  be 
the  veriest  rock  upon  which  a  lichen  would  starve,  let  it  be  sta 
ble — only  still — rocky,  but  not  rocking.  No  one  can  appreciate 
the  merits  of  that  much-abused  party  who  has  not  been  sea-sick. 
You  might  as  well  attempt  to  master  the  Integral  Calculus, 
without  a  knowledge  of  algebra,  or  to  read  Shakspeare  without 
a  knowledge  of  the  alphabet.  It  is  a  sine  qua  non.  Each  par- 


!4  OVER  THE  SEA  AND    HAIL  TO  ENGLAND. 

ticular  fibre  in  my  body  would  quiver,  if  it  were  only  placed 
upon  an  immobile  element — upon  free  soil. 

One  thing  I  have  learned  within  a  week,  and  that  is,  fully 
to  understand  the  merits  of  Christopher  Columbus  and  Captain 
Cook.  Even  in  my  most  pluckless  condition,  pale,  haggard  and 
hirsute,  I  could  have  performed  a  genuflexion,  with  the  ardor  of 
Carlyle  himself,  to  these  heroes  of  the  sea. 

I  have  wondered  how  any  soul  could  feel  grand  or  sublime 
upon  the  ocean.  Lord  Jeffrey  has  demonstrated  that  beauty 
and  sublimity  are  subjective,  not  inherent  to  the  objects  seen, 
but  depending  upon  the  mind  of  the  person  seeing.  The  laby 
rinth  of  forms  which  emanate  from  the  painter's  pencil  and  distil 
upon  the  canvass  the  freshness  of  Nature's  Beauty,  are  first 
pictured  in  his  soul.  The  warm  breath  of  enthusiasm  passes 
over  the  gross  materials  of  earth,  solves  them  into  the  refinement 
of  thought,  and  then  the  "  imprisoned  splendor  of  the  soul" 
bursts  forth  to  beautify  and  bless.  If,  therefore,  there  is  to  be 
found  beauty  or  sublimity  upon  the  ocean,  the  mental  tentacula 
must  reach  out  and  find  it.  But  when  they  are  paralyzed  and 

shrunken  by  this  everlasting  sea-sickness— where  is  the  sub-* , 

I  beg  pardon.  Eureka  !  It  is  the  sublimity  Burke  discovered 
in  Spencer's  Cave  of  Error, — the  nauseate  sublime !  Its  mono 
syllabic  expression,  is  simply —  Ugh  ! 

On  Sunday  we  passed  amidst  six  icebergs.  They  were  said 
to  be  beautiful.  No  doubt.  But  if  each  iceberg  had  been  as 
radiant  with  gold  and  orange,  green  and  violet,  and  prismatic 
generally  as  Trinity  church  windows,  with  a  Polar  bear  sur 
mounting  each  glittering  pinnacle,  the  scene  could  not  have 
aroused  my  sense  of  the  beautiful.  I  did  not  even  go  on  deck 
to  see  them.  The  beautiful  was  drowned  fathomlessly  in  the 
ocean  of  .sea-sickness. 

These  British  vessels  run  up  north  and  over  the  Newfound 
land  banks.  They  thus  save  upwards  of  300  miles.  We  have 
passed  very  few  vessels.  It  is  not  the  route  for  sailing  vessels. 
During  the  rough  time  upon  the  banks,  we  ran  by  a  little 


OVER  TILE  SEA  AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND.  15 

schooner,  with  no  sails  set,  dancing  away  1500  miles  from  either 
hemisphere — playing  "  hide  and  go  seek"  with  the  billows,  as  if 
it  were  in  very  deed,  the  fairy  gondola  of  Phedra  which  passed 
on  its  way,  unharmed,  without  oar,  sail,  or  rudder. 

We  also  passed  the  U.  S.  steamship  Humboldt,  upon  our 
fifth  day  out.  It  is  her  first  trip.  She  had,  however,  only  seven 
pieces  of  canvas  spread,  while  we  had  ten.  Our  American 
ladies  did  not  like  the  idea  of  having  Uncle  Sam  thrown  behind 
in  that  way.  I  am  free  to  confess  that  not  a  sentiment  of 
patriotism  disturbed  my  sea-sick  heart.  I  was  helped  on  deck 
for  a  view  of  this  strange  meeting  of  the  steamers  in  mid-ocean. 
We  ran  along  side  of  her,  only  distant  one  half  mile.  We  salut 
ed  with  cannon,  and  she  returned  it  gallantly.  How  finely  she 
dashed  the  waves  from  her  black  prow  !  What  a  thing  of  life 
is  the  proud,  throbbing  steamer,  conscious  of  dignity,  sinewed 
with  brass  and  iron,  with  a  viewless  power  mocking  human 
might,  beating  in  its  iron  heart  !  This  gigantic  power  has  been 
evoked  into  being,  by  the  genius  of  this  latter  time,  the  distin 
guishing  feature  of  which,  above  all  others,  is  expressed  in 
Wordsworth's  lines : 

An  intellectual  mastery  exercised 

O'er  the  blind  elements ;  a  purpose  given, 
A  perseverance  fed ;  almost  a  SOUL 
Imparted  to  brute  matter. 

I  would  not  decry  the  British  because  we  are  her  rivals  in 
this  race  of  material  progress.  Let  honor  crown  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  of  both  continents.  These  petty  irritabilities  which  have 
sprung  out  of  this  oceanic  rivalry,  and  which  have  even  poisoned 
the  sociality  of  our  voyage,  are  beneath  the  dignity  and  gener 
osity  of  our  countrymen.  For  safety  and  speed,  for  careful 
management,  good  servants  and  skilful  officers,  the  "  Asia,"  at 
least,  cannot  be  rivalled.  We  shall  try  the  American  line  on 
our  return,  and  may  then  express  our  preference.  Until  then, 


16  OVER   THE  SEA  AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND. 

God  speed  the  noble  steamers  of  both  nations  upon  their  mis 
sions  of  interchange  ! 

My  first  nautical  observation  on  deck  was  that  of  a  little 
bird  "  all  alone,  all  alone,"  seemingly  exhausted,  yet  still  flying 
in  its  own  element.  What  a  lesson  does  this  aerial  pilgrim  teach 
us.  We  who  are  continually  passing  the  "  flaming  bounds"  of 
worldly  wisdom,  and  striving  for  the  unknown  and  unapproach 
able  mysteries  of  God  and  of  the  spirit  world — does  it  not  teach 
us  to  be  content  in  our  own  sphere  of  knowledge  ?  How  beau 
tiful  would  be  the  song  of  that  little  chorister, 

"Upon  a  bough  high  swaying  in  the  wind," 

in  some  sequestered  nook,  surrounded  by  leafy  prospects  and 
smiling  cultivation  !  How  like  a  hymn  to  its  Creator  would  go 
up  its  carol  to  the  All  Audient  One  ;  yet,  here  it  is,  with  fagged 
wing  and  panting  breath,  contending  with  harsh,  cold  blasts, 
just  able  to  overtop  the  snowy  spray  of  the  mid-ocean  ;  deluded 
from  its  greenwood  home  by  the  persuasive  mysteries  of  the  un 
known  ;  a  thing  of  song  in  a  sea  of  chaos,  soon  to  be  whelmed 
for  ever.  Is  it  not  an  epitome  of  man,  when  he  breaks  the  golden 
chords  of  that  harmony  which  bind  him  to  his  God  ? 

As  my  strength  increases,  the  sea  grows  on  my  esteem.  The 
warmer  air  detains  me  above,  where  the  employment  of  the  eye 
gives  relief  and  delight.  The  sailors  are  putting  up  their  ropes 
into  snaky  coils.  The  sound  of  dish-washing  unromantically 
mingles  with  the  "  profound  eternal  bass"  of  Ocean's  roar.  French 
fops  and  English  cockneys  (we  have  a  motley  crew)  puff  the  light 
cigar  vapor.  It  darts  away  to  blend  with  the  blue,  that  bends 
above  us  like  an  unbroken  canopy,  embroidered  with  a  few  flee 
cy  clouds.  What  a  circle  the  horizon  describes  in  the  clear  air  ! 
I  do  not  know  whether  it  pleases  most  from  its  perfect  geometry 
or  its  bewildering  extent.  The  waverings  of  the  water  are  soft 
ened  by  the  distance.  It  seems  as  if  GOD,  as  he  sits  upon  the 
circle  of  the  heavens,  had  by  his  power  carved  out  a  vast  liquid 
gem,  variant  with  lights  and  shades.  The  sea,  as  your  eye  ap- 


OVER  TEL  SEA  AND  HAIL    TO  ENGLAND  \f 

preaches  the  edge  of  the  horizon, — that  mysterious  and  ever- 
changing  line  bounding  the  visible  sphere  and  dividing  it  from 
the  invisible, — grows  darker,  until  upon  its  rim,  where  it  clasps 
the  sky,  it  is  black  ;  the  result  of  perspective,  heightened  by  the 
contrast  between  the  dark  water  and  the  fair  sky. 
.  What  an  infinity  of  angles  the  wind  makes  the  sea  make  ! 
Like  the  agitation  of  one  overmastering  thought  upon  the  world 
of  mind.  Each  medium  reflects  it  similarly,  yet  with  a  marked 
difference.  One,  like  a  Bacon  or  a  Newton,  heaves  it  heavenward, 
flashing  it  white  and  beautiful.  Its  very  foam  attests  the 
strength  of  the  billow.  Another  receives  the  power,  and  with 
docile  humility,  projects  but  a  tiny  drop — it  may  be,  but  a  drop 
from  the  spray  of  the  mightier  wave. 

The  officers  are  accustomed  every  log,  to  drop  a  bucket,  and 
take  the  temperature  of  the  water.  This  is  reported,  perhaps  to 
Greenwich  5  and  there  the  immense  repertory  of  isolated,  mean 
ingless  facts  is  put  into  the  crucible  of  generalization,  and  comes 
out  vital  principles  of  navigation.  So  much  for  a  bucket  of  salt 
water,  and  the  Baconian  system  of  induction. 

We  are  almost  to  Cape  Clear,  the  southern  point  of  Ireland. 
I  am  a  living  witness  that  the  account  Tacitus  gives  of  these 
parts  is  an  unmitigated  fabrication.  Thule,  Ultima  Thule,  is 
generally  acknowledged  to  be  Ireland,  I  believe.  Tacitus  says, 
that  the  seas  around  Thule  were  a  mass  of  sluggish  stagnation, 
hardly  yielding  to  the  stroke  of  the"  oar,  and  never  agitated  by 
winds  and  tempests.  About  as  authentic  and  probable  as  Juve 
nal's  poetic  account  of  the  sun,  which  he  affirms  could  be  heard 
hissing  in  the  waters  of  the  Herculean  Gulf. 

Audit  Hercules  stridentem  gurgite  solem. 

All  on  the  look-out  for  land !  Man  at  the  mast-head  and 
officers  with  glasses  !  The  hour  of  enfranchisement  draws  nigh. 
Wearied  with  gazing  into  the  dim  distance,  I  went  below,  to 
return  on  deck  at  dark.  Clambering  up  the  taffrail  I  saw — 


18  OVER  THE  SEA  AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND. 

horror  of  horrors  !  within  twenty-five  yards  of  us,  a  huge  black 
rock,  rising  up  in  the  gloom,  like  the  back  of  Leviathan ! 
I  involuntarily  dropped.  We  were  in  sight  of  land  with  a  ven 
geance.  This  rock  is  within  a  few  miles  of  Cape  Clear.  The 
light-houses  showed  that  "  sweet  Ireland" — (sweet  indeed  to  the 
longing  eye),  was  on  our  left.  The  next  morning  confirmed  our 
locality.  It  found  us  pushing  up  the  Channel  between  Wales 
and  Ireland,  not  far  from  Braichen  Point.  We  moved  in  a 
direct  line  to  Holyhead.  Away  to  the  west,  in  dim,  graceful 
limning,  float,  cloudlike,  the  cerulean  mountains  of  Ireland. 
The  low  coast  cannot  be  seen.  "Heavy  a  port!"  growls  the 
officer  at  the  wheel-house.  "Heavy  a  port!"  echoes  the  mate 
at  the  compass.  "Heavy  a  port,  Sir!"  drawls  out  the  man 
from  the  tiller,  and  the  deflection  eastward  continues. 

I  observed  an  oval  line  of  a  most  ethereal  fineness  upon  the 
right.  It  grew,  with  our  panting  steamer's  progress,  into  form, 
grand  and  palpable,  until  Holyhead  burst  upon  us.  With  a 
glass  we  viewed  the  immense  work  begun  by  government  here. 
A  harbor  is  being  built  for  the  Cunard  and  mail  steamers. 
Already  it  is  connected  with  Liverpool  by  cars.  As  we  hove 
in  sight,  we  ran  up  signals,  which  were  carried  to  Liverpool 
before  us, — as  was  indicated  by  the  line  of  steam  which  began 
to  flow  throughout  the  distant  landscape. 

We  took  a  pilot  aboard  and  received  from  him  one  newspaper, 
which  was  cut  into  shreds  and  devoured  by  fourteen  passengers 
at  once.  The  breath  of  the  fresh  landscape  is  around.  Now  I 
can  write  like  a  native  of  this  round  earth ;  for  land  is  all  about 
us.  The  cliffs  of  Old  England  stand  out  in  definite  outline. 
Light-houses  and  mansions  attest  the  presence  of  a  superior 
civilization.  How  many  thronging  associations  flit  through  the 
mind,  as  I  recall,  that  here,  not  in  fancy's  eye,  but  in  reality, 
stands  the  little  isle  of  power — the  home  of  QLD  COKE  and 
CROMWELL,  of  SPENCER  and  COWPER,  of  CHATHAM  and  CAN 
NING,  and  all  the  host  of  glorious  minds  with  whom  so  much  of 
life  has  been  passed.  Aye  ;  in  very  truth,  my  eye  has  greeted 


OVER  THE  SEA  AND  HAIL  TO  ENGLAND.  19 

the  land  of  WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE  and  GUY  FAWKES,  JOHN 
MILTON  and  TITUS  GATES  ;  the  ideal  realm  of  JOHN  FALSTAFF 
and  LITTLE  NELL  5  the  theatre  of  Roundheads  and  Cavaliers. 
Yonder,  verily,  just  over  to  my  right,  actually  grew  into  life 
that  vigorous  feudalism  out  of  which  rose  the  fabric  of  our 
own  common  law.  These  remembrances  come  over  me  wildly 
and  strangely.  Old  England !  Yes ;  God  bless  her !  With 
fears  in  my  eyes,  I  beseech  Heaven's  best  benison  upon  her.  I 
forget  her,  as  the  land  of  ruth  and  wrong ;  I  remember  her  only 
as  the  land  of  noble  deeds  and  generous  hearts.  Her  literature, 
from  Chaucer's  first  uncouth  song  to  D'Israeli's  last  sarcasm, 
floats  through  the  memory  like  a  vivid  power",  transforming 
every  prejudice  into  praise,  and  even  wrong  into  glory. 

But  I  am  ahead  of  my  reckoning.  I  am  not  yet  done  with 
the  Ocean.  Such  an  event  as  crossing  the  Atlantic  by  a  back 
woods  Buckeye,  deserves  a  fuller  treatment.  Of  course,  in  this 
gossiping  of  mine,  you  will  not  expect  me  to  confine  myself  to 
any  system.  I  reproduce  only  hasty  impressions  hastily ;  pre 
tending  to  no  insight,  simply  to  sight;  to  no  profundity  in 
reading  character  and  discussing  vital  principles,  simply  to 
superficial  glances  and  occasional  hearings. 

Now  that  the  horrors  of  sickness  are  over,  the  ocean  presents 
itself  under  another  sky.  I  have  spoken  of  our  "  volant  home," 
the  noble  steamship.  Ours  was  not  tested  very  strongly  by 
Neptune  ;  yet  not  a  fear  as  to  the  result  intruded  itself  into  our 
minds.  It  requires  a  good  share  of  confidence  in  a  vessel,  to 
step  from  the  firm  set  earth  upon  its  fragile  planks,  which  are  to 
be  upborne  by  so  unstable  an  element.  It  instils  a  thrilling 
awe,  to  feel  yourself  moving  away  to  some  mysterious  realm,  the 
existence  of  which  seems  to  hang  only  upon  the  prompture  of 
Faith.  The  divorce  from  the  old  and  familiar  has  begun.  Day 
after  day,  you  are 

"  Borne  darkly,  fearfully  afar," 

reaching  no  shore,  and  night  after  night,  you  hear,  by  your  very 
pillow,  the 


20  OVER  THE  SEA  AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND. 

"Ever  drifting,  drifting,  drifting, 
Currents  of  the  restless  main." 

Yet  to  know  that  the  potent  water-breath,  we  call  steam,  can 
mate  the  Ocean  in  his  wildest  Saturnalia,  gives  all  the  joy  of 
security,  while  it  does  not  rob  us  of  the  vague  mystery.  Let 
the  Sea  King  try  his  strongest,  to  crack  our  vessel's  joints  and 
sinews— cheerily  sing  the  sailors,  and  merrily  laugh  and  skip 
about  the  boat  the  frolicksome  children.  No  drifting  at  ttte 
pleasure  of  the  elements,  with  our  vessel ;  but  a  straight  path 
and  a  steady  one.  Vulcan,  amid  his  coal  smoke  below,  is  the 
controlling  spirit ;  and  reeling  Neptune  drops  his  trident  in  the 

fire. 

Can  it  be  that  here  indeed  is  the  rock-ribbed  coast  of  Eng 
land  ?  Yes ;  for  the  tokens  are  evident.  The  rocks  are  all  fis 
sured,  and  gray  as  the  hoar-frost  with  salt.  Irregular  masses 
seem  to  have  been  heaped  ashore.  No  footing  is  found  upon 
which  to  stand.  The  rocks  impress  one  strangely,  not  alone  be 
cause  they  form  an  outline  of  the  isle  of  our  ancestors,  but  (we 
must  own  it)  because  that  isle  affords  our  poor  physical  frames 
a  steady  foothold,  and  an  uninterrupted  appetite.  How  much 
of  the  crockery  ware  is  burned  into  this  human  "wessel  of 
wrath,"  along  with  the  exquisite  porcelain? 

We  are  about  to  turn  up  the  Mersey,  and  to  leave  our  open 
seaward  for  a  narrower  path.  Perhaps  from  this  point  one  may 
fully  appreciate  the  glories  of  the  ocean  ;  for  its  roll  no  longer 
disturbs  the  mind.  CAMPBELL  has  embalmed  in  the  splendor 
of  his  verse,  more  of  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  the  sea,  than 
any  other  poet,  BYRON  not  excepted.  He  loved  to  retire  from 
the  bustle  of  London,  Edinburgh,  or  Glasgow,  and  from  the 
height  of  St.  Leonard's  (on  solid  ground — mind  you  !)  listen  to 
its  murmurs,  which  to  him  were  dearer  than  all  the  applause  of 
the  world.  He  found  peacefulness  in  its  din,  and  repose  in  its 
restlessness.  He  looked  out  upon  the  depths,  amid  the  storms, 
and  saw  the  lightning  sink  half  way  over  the  main,  like  a  wea 
ried  bird  too  weak  to  sweep  its  space.  He  saw  it  in  the  calm, 


OVER  THE  SEA  AND  HAIL   TO  ENGLAND.  21 

when  the  firmament  of  stars  found  in  it  a  gorgeous  mirror  for 
their  Infinitude  !  What  a  fine  thought  is  that  of  his,  which 
calls  the  sky  the  mistress  of  the  sea,  giving  from  her  brow  his 
moods,  morning's  milky  white,  noon's  sapphire,  and  the  saffron 
glow  of  evening.  So  beautiful  did  it  seem  to  his  poetic  eye, 
that  he  wondered  not  that  Love's  own  Queen  was  fabled  to  have 
come  from  the  bosom  of  the  sea  !  He  likens  it  to  creation's 
common  (a  purely  Anglo-Saxon  metaphor),  which  no  human 
power  can  parcel  or  inclose.  This  idea  is  akin  to  that  of 
MADAME  DE  STAEL,  which  Byron  engrafted  upon  his  immortal 
Apostrophe.  "  Man,"  she  says,  "  may  plough  the  earth,  and  cut 
his  way  through  mountains,  or  construct  rivers  into  canals  to 
transport  his  merchandise,  but  if  his  fleets  for  a  moment  furrow 
the  ocean,  its  waves  as  instantly  efface  this  slight  mark  of  servi 
tude,  and  it  again  appears  as  it  was  the  first  day  of  the  creation." 
Or,  as  Byron  phrases  it, 

"  Time  writes  no  wrinkle  on  thine  azure  brow, 
Such  as  creation's  dawn  beheld,  thou  rollest  now." 

The  figure,  however,  which  pleases  my  taste  most  is  that  of 
the  mirror.  It  has  been  used  by  BAILEY,  in  his  "Angel  World," 
to  illustrate  the  most  stupendous  truth  which  the  human  mind 
may  entertain ;  the  mysterious  combination  of  the  Eternal 
Father  with  the  everlasting  Son,  the  union  of  Infinite  Justice 
with  all-gracious  Love, — 

"  The  unseen  likeness  of  the  INEFFABLE  ONE, 
Each  like  the  other,  as  the  sky  and  sea, 
Imbosoming  the  Infinite." 

Material  though  the  ocean  be,  it  has  a  power  to  penetrate  into 
the  mind's  immaterial  recesses,  to  inspire  it  with  Beauty,  and 
elevate  it  with  the  emotions  of  Religion. 

Have  I  written  too  much  upon  this  theme  1  My  Jeremiad 
on  sea-sickness  required  an  antidote  to  do  justice  to  the  element 
which  has  borne  me  over  its  bosom  so  safely. 


II. 

Ctommial  ^rtrnpnlis  writ  Ettml 


"All  that  Nature  did  thy  soil  deny, 
The  growth  was  of  thy  fruitful  Industry; 
And  all  the  proud  and  dreadful  sea 
A  constant  tribute  paid  to  thee." 

HERE  we  are  upon  substantial  soil.  Liverpool  !  How  lan 
guidly  the  word  melts  in  the  mouth  !  My  partiality  for 
steamships  and  big  ponds  could  not  restrain  the  outbreak  of 
joy  with  which  we  pressed  the  solid  land.  The  effects  too  of 
our  experience,  though  sad  at  first,  haye  resulted  in  a  bound  of 
animal  spirits  almost  inconsistent  with  sanity. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Mersey  we  took  a  pilot  aboard,  and 
with  our  "  starboard,  sir,"  "  port,  sir,"  and  "  steady,  sir,"  we 
reached  Liverpool  at  11  o'clock,  upon  the  night  of  the  17th  of 
May,  1851.  It  was  some  recompense  for  missing  the  green, 
bright  green  banks  of  the  Mersey,  with  its  cottages  and  resi 
dences,  that  we  passed  up  amid  a  galaxy  of  many-colored  lights, 
which,  reflected  upon  the  water  from  Birkenhead  on  the  one  side, 
and  Liverpool  on  the  other,  almost  transformed  the  scene  into 
one  of  fairyland.  Our  guns  boomed  ;  mails  were  taken  ;  and 
after  the  custom-house  proceedings,  by  no  means  vexatious,  we 
were  permitted  to  land.  The  first  person  that  spoke  to  me  was 
a  little  imp,  modelled  after  the  exterior  of  Oliver  Twist.  A 
police  officer  touched  him  with  a  baton.  He  was  non  est  in  a  jiffy. 

Our  first  impression  of  the  population  here  was  not  very 
favorable.  True,  we  saw  the  fag-end  of  humanity  in  the  shape 


TEE  COMMERCIAL  METROPOLIS.  23 

of  beggars  and  loafers  at  the  landing.  We  had  no  sooner  taken 
up  our  march  to  our  hotel,  preferring  to  feel  the  delight  of  a 
walk,  after  so  long  a  ride  on  the  billows,  than  a  fellow  who  said 
that  he  was  a  servant  at  the  Waterloo,  offered  himself  as  our  pilot. 
I  suspected  him,  but  thought  that  we  would  use  him,  as  it  was 
nearly  two  in  the  morning.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  we 
were  saluted  with,  "Which  hotel,  sir — which  hotel?" 

"  Waterloo !" 

"  Sorry — very  sorry — can't  accommodate  you,  sir — I'm  boots 
at  the  Waterloo,  sir — all  full,  sir.  Three  ship-loads  just  arrived, 
sir — very  sorry — Victoria  Hotel  near  by — few  minutes  walk,  sir 
— own  sister  of  the  Waterloo  keeps  it." 

He  had  said  too  much.  We  marched  on,  heartily  laughing 
at  "  Boots  !"  Saint  Somebody's  church  illuminated  the  hour  of 
two,  and  it  was  nearly  daylight — a  phenomenon  belonging  to 
this  northern  clime  which  considerably  bewildered  our  Buckeye 
experience.  We  found  the  Waterloo  open,  and  the  lady  at  the 
door  with  her  servants,  ready  to  take  down  our  names.  I  intro 
duced  our  pilot  as  their  servant.  They,  of  course,  disclaimed 
his  acquaintance.  "  You  are  a  pretty  specimen  of  human  vera 
city." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am  obliged  to  you,  sir." 

"  But  I  suppose  we  ought  to  pay  you  for  your  guidance  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  please  you,  sir,  you  are  very  kind,  sir." 

I  gave  him  a  shilling,  with  a  caution  about  lying,  which  he, 
with  a  rub  over  his  red  nose,  and  a  low  bow,  acknowledged. 

We  had  scarcely  appeared  this  morning  at  our  window,  when 
that  extreme  of  English  civilization  called  "  starvation"  was  seen 
in  the  shape  of  a  young  urchin,  whether  boy  or  girl  I  could  not 
discern,  for  the  dress  consisted  of  only  two  rags.  He  stood  bob 
bing  his  head  and  whining,  while  I  sketched  him.  His  counter 
feit  presentment  followed  us,  as  soon  as  we  left  the  hotel  to  take 
a  stroll ;  and  the  little  gipsey  had  the  same  monotone  of  grief. 
He  was  joined  by  another ;  and  thus  marshalled,  we  had  to  pass 
the  agony  of  some  squares.  It  was  not  until  a  fretful  threat  to 


24  THE  COMMERCIAL  METROPOLIS 

"  cut  his  weazand,"  that  he  cut  our  company,  which  he  did  with 
the  remark,  "  they  won't  pay  any  more." 

How  comfortably  every  thing  is  conducted  in  these  English 
hotels.  We  have  our  own  parlors,  and  our  own  meals.  It  looks 
so  cosey  to  see  our  own  good  company  presiding  at  the  tea-urn, 
and  dispensing  the  Johnsonian  beverage. 

Of  course,  the  modes  here  strike  us  strangely.  But  as  we 
started  out  to  admire  all  that  is  admirable,  we  must  commend 
the  English  mode  of  hotel  keeping,  with  its  private  parlors  and 
private  meals. 

Every  object,  even  the  go-carts,  strike  a  stranger  queerly  at 
first.  Omnibuses,  with  nobody  inside,  and  crowded  a-top,  dash 
past  our  windows.  Cabs  as  big  as  our  carriages,  like  a  streak 
of  lightning,  dash  by  with  one  horse.  Horns  musically  quiver 
in  the  fresh  morning  air.  The  tall  dark  houses  and  clean 
white  paves  of  Liverpool  surround  us,  while  on  every  side  green 
foliage  and  twittering  birds  betoken  that  love  of  rural  life  which 
the  English  bring  even  into  their  cities.  One  thing  in-doors  is 
noticeable.  The  sedulous  zeal  displayed  in  curtaining  out 
heaven's  sun  light.  It  would  seem  that,  with  the  prodigality  of 
gloomy  weather  in  this  isle,  as  much  of  the  light  as  possible 
would  be  admitted,  more  especially  as  a  heavy  window  tax  is 
assessed.  But  no  such  thing.  Why?  Is  it  a  phase  of  that 
habitual  exclusiveness  and  love  of  domestic  ease  which  form  so 
prominent  a  trait  in  the  English  character  ? 

We  have  viewed  the  city.  Its  Corinthian  elegance  of  ar 
chitecture,  illustrated  especially  in  the  Exchange  ;  excellent  po 
lice  ;  above  all,  its  magnificent  docks,  by  which  the  shipping  is 
brought  into  the  city  and  preserved  afloat,  notwithstanding  the 

tides bespeak  for  Liverpool  the  encomium  of  the  traveller. 

There  are  two  provisos.  The  first,  beggars,  I  have  named.  The 
other  is,  the  apparent  sacrilegious  treatment  of  the  buried  dead. 
Would  you  believe  it  ?  The  pave  to  several  of  the  first  churches 
here  is  over  and  upon  the  tombstones  of  the  buried.  The  in 
scriptions  are  being  effaced  by  the  feet  of  the  passenger.  Nurses 


AND  RURAL  SCENERY.  25 

with  children,  men,  women,  and  boys,  indiscriminately,  tread 
over  the  ashes  of  the  departed. 

In  our  walk,  we  noticed  Roscoe  street — a  reminder  that 
Liverpool  was  the  home  of  the  Historian  of  the  Medici.  It  re 
called  his  splendid  descriptions  of  that  age,  when  Scholarship 
and  Art  were  beginning  to  burst  the  barriers  of  the  dark  ages, 
to  herald  the  new-born  civilization  which  is  ours  to-day.  It  also 
recalled  living's  elegant  tribute  to  the  merchant  litterateur. 
You  remember  how  Irving  first  saw  him,  entering  the  Athe 
naeum,  with  his  venerable  air — a  fine  illustration  of  "  a  chance 
production"  disappointing  the  assiduities  of  Art,  and  working 
out  of  the  busy  mart  of  traflic  the  glory  and  the  genius  of  the 
great  Tuscan  era,  You  remember,  too,  how  nobly  he  bore  the 
loss  of  his  books,  and  what  a  noble  consolation  he  found  in  the 
closing  words  of  his  sonnet, 

"  Mind  shall  with  mind  direct  communion  hold, 
And  kindred  spirits  meet  to  part  no  more." 

The  country  lying  adjacent  to  the  great  railway  between 
Liverpool  and  London,  presents  a  perfect  succession  of  rural 
beauties :  one  sweet  continuous  garden,  divided  off  into  elegant 
compartments,  and  dotted  with  residences  of  the  most  exquisite 
taste.  After  passing  out  of  the  tunnel  from  Liverpool,  which  is 
cut  through  the  solid  rock,  and  which  we  performed  for  a  mile 
and  a  quarter  up  an  inclined  plane,  drawn  by  a  stationary  en 
gine  ;  after  we  struck  the  daylight  and  the  country,  a  bright 
greenish  green,  so  green  as  almost  to  be  yellow,  saluted  our 
eyes,  albeit  unused  to  any  other  than  sea-green.  The  meadows 
all  along  seemed  indeed  a  carpet,  into  which  were  inwoven 
snow-flakes  of  daisies,  buttercups  in  profusion,  and  pansies  large 
and  plentiful !  Yet  the  land  here  is  naturally  sterile,  having  a 
reddish  tinge,  and  as  we  approach  nearer  the  great  metropolis 
it  displays  a  chalk  formation.  We  are  at  one  moment  moving 
in  sight  of  a  beautiful  tower  upon  the  hill,  surrounded  with 
walks  and  embowered  in  leafiness ;  then  past,  a  succession  of 


26  THE  COMMERCIAL  METROPOLIS. 

ivy-covered  cottages,  thatched  with  straw,  and  in  themselves, 
with  their  streams  and  parterres,  forming  a  rural  landscape. 
The  high  gothic  chimneys,  and  the  very  red  of  the  bricks,  give 
to  the  towns  along  the  way  a  very  picturesque  effect.  Nature 
seems  like  Cowper's  rose,  as  if  just  washed  in  a  shower;  and  so 
bright,  yellow  almost,  and  many-shaded,  is  the  green,  that  it 
pleases  the  eye  like  an  autumnal  forest  in  Ohio.  The  churches 
are  all  perfectly  neat ;  some,  elegant  gothic  buildings.  Now 
and  then,  a  still,  hallowing  sense  of  antiquity  hovers  around 
these  churches  and  their  grave-yards,  which  we  look  for  in  vain 
at  home.  How  pleasing  to  see,  peeping  from  their  verdurous 
coverts,  these  little  minsters  of  heaven  !  From  these,  notwith 
standing  the  marriage  of  Church  and  State — which  cannot  be 
too  much  abominated — have  emanated  those  salutary  influences 
which  are  illustrated  by  the  surrounding  practical  works.  From 
these  chapels,  honored  by  a  LATIMER,  a  JEREMY  TAYLOR,  a 
HOOKER  and  a  BERKLEY,  in  the  elder  time,  came  forth  the  power 
which  has  transformed  the  naturally  poor  soil  of  England  into  a 
garden  of  cultivation.  They  have  made  the  ever-sweet  hedges, 
and  have  constructed  these  roads,  which  seem  like  elegant  wind 
ing  garden  paths,  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  can  penetrate,  like 
lines  of  light  in  a  vast  panorama  of  verdure. 

We  did  not  observe  in  all  this  journey  a  single  sign  of 
poverty.  Comfort  is  impressed  every  where.  In  every  village 
and  cottage,  Plenty  appeared  rejoicing  in  her  stewardship.  In 
the  manufacturing  districts  through  which  we  passed,  the  same 
rural  air  of  neat  exactitude  and  repose  was  apparent.  You  could 
only  distinguish  these  districts  by  huge  piles  of  coal  near  the 
railroad,  and  the  tall  chimney  stacks  lifting  themselves  out  of 
the  level  against  the  sky,  and  topped  with  wavy  streamers  of 
smoke,  which  in  the  distance  reminded  us  of  our  Liberty  poles 
and  flags.  Each  railway  station  is  a  pretty  piece  of  architec 
ture,  with  its  elegant  surrounding  grounds.  There  does  not 
seem  to  be  a  thing  neglected  or  out  of  place.  As  the  car  dashed 
from  point  to  point,  our  surprise  was  increased.  Never  through 


AND  RURAL  SCENERY.  27 

our  minds  played  the  like.  It  resembled  a  fairy  dream,  in 
which  each  scene  seemed  "picked  out  as  an  example  for  the 
best." 

But  while  lost  in  admiration,  I  have  forgotten  that  the  cars 
have  been  ruralizing  toward  the  valley  of  the  "  royal  toward 
Thames."  Our  outstretched  necks  have  discerned  its  winding 
mist  already.  Already  is  the  eye  peopled  dim,  with  figures  of 
Westminster,  the  Tower,  the  Parliament  Houses,  and  above  all, 
the  Palace  of  Crystal ! 

Sure  enough  here  we  are  in  the  Depot ;  and  not  yet  out  of 
the  country ; — in  London,  but  still  it  is  rus  in  urbe.  We  are 
flanked  by  terraced  gardens  and  foliage.  Robins  and  thrushes 
make  music,  while  we  rumble  to  our  stopping  point.  The 
charms  of  the  day  cling  like  good  genii  to  the  last :  as  if  de 
termined  to  impress  into  our  deepest  hearts  the  adoration  of 
England's  Bard  of  Olney,  who  attuned,  years  ago,  our  own  spirit 
as  he  sung  of  him,  who  looked  abroad  upon  the  varied  fields, 
the  mountains,  the  valleys,  and  the  resplendent  views  of  Nature, 
and  by  virtue  of  his  filial  confidence  in  the  Creator  of  this  de 
lightful  scenery,  could  call  it  all  his  own,  with  a  propriety  which 
none  could  feel,  but  he  who  could 

-"Lift  to  heaven  an  unpresumptuons  eye, 


And  smiling  say,  '  My  Father  made  it  all.' 


III. 


€|IB  Uiittlt  Pirate,  ani  a  JUnal  Cjjnst. 

"  A  wilderness  of  building,  sinking  far 
And  self  withdrawn,  into  a  wondrous  depth, 
Far  sinking  into  splendor— without  end." 


Wordsworth. 


THE  morning  of  the  21st  of  May  found  us  in  London,  amid 
its  coaches,  drays,  dog-carts,  phaetons,  choked  roads,  its  whirl 
of  wheels  and  its  war  of  confused  noises.     Never  was  there  such 
a  horse  and  vehicle-loving  people  as  the  English  ;  judging  by  tl 
manifold  and  multiform  vehicles  which  crowd  and  clog  the  tho 
roughfares      Not  alone  in  Picadilly,  the  Fleet,  Cheapside,  and 
the  neighborhood  of  St.  Paul's,  where  streets  have  recently  been 
cut  through  great  blocks  of  houses  to  give  passage  to  the  throngs 
but  in  the  less  compacted  parts  of  the  city,  and  just  now  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Hyde  Park,  near  the  Crystal  Palace,  is  there  t 
be  found  involutions  of  wondrous  perplexity,  consisting  of  cal 
and  carriage,  horse  and  footman,  go-cart  and  poney  ;    but  all 
moving  and  winding  with  the  precision  of  machinery,  under  the 

unostentatious  power  of  an  efficient  police. 

Without  that  power,  what  a  complexity  would  London  b 

a  stranger?      With  it,  access  is  made  easy  to  every  point  worth 

seeing.      Our  first  venture  abroad  was  toward  the  Crystal  Palace. 

Upon  our  way  thither,  we  passed  the  famous  Apsley  House  of 

Wellington,  and  the  great  equestrian  statue  of  the  Iron  Duke. 
But  the  one    great  ornament ;— the  desire    to  view  which. 

prompted    our   journey   hitherward,   was    the    Crystal    Palace. 

Well  —our  eyes  have  seen  it.      But  how  shall  we  reproduce  i 


THE  BRITTLE   WONDER.  29 

wonders  for  the  eye  of  others  ?  Never  since  "  Dardanian  hands," 
at  the  command  of  King  Brutus,  began  this  town  of  Londinum 
has  there  been  such  a  rare  and  glorious  spectacle  as  that  which 
now  glitters  under  the  May  sunshine  in  Hyde  Park  !  This  is  a 
bold  saying  ;  but  the  documents,  in  the  shape  of  royal  catalogues 
and  colored  engravings,  lie  around  my  table,  and  they  afford  most 
practical  proof.  Our  verdict,  by  actual  inspection,  has  also  been 
rendered,  but  not  reduced  to  writing.  This  latter  is  most  diffi 
cult.  I  have  been  afraid  to  undertake  to  tell  how  my  senses 
have  been  raptured.  After  loitering  amidst  the  manifold  splen 
dors  and  intricate  complexities  of  this  "  industrious"  world,  the 
mind  has  become  benumbed,  and  refuses  to  officiate  but  tardily. 
It  seemeth  as  if  a  "  star  had  burst  within  the  brain,"  and  that  the 
rockets  and  pyrotechnic  beauties  were  still  going  off  in  the  cham 
bers  of  imagery. 

Nathless  I  essay.  The  reader  who  undertakes  to  form  an 
idea  of  this  crystal  structure  of  wonders,  from  these  feeble  lim- 
nings.  might  as  well  judge  of  the  palace  visually  by  one^ane  of 
glass,  or  of  its  contents  by  the  India-rubber  trowsers  in  Uncle 
Sam's  department. 

When  the  palace  burst  upon  our  view,  which  it  did  as  we 
approached  the  transept  on  the  southern  side,  all  was  intense 
eagerness ;  every  hand  went  up,  but  not  a  word  was  said  ! 

There  it  stood — the  cynosure  of  industry  !  How  fragile,  yet 
how  substantial ;  so  gorgeous  in  its  colorings  ;  with  the  flags  of 
all  nations  playing  in  the  breeze ;  its  guard  of  majestic  trees 
about  it ;  extending  nearly  nineteen  hundred  feet,  and  running 
back  one-fourth  of  that  distance  ;  with  its  six  thousand  iron  col 
umns,  painted  blue,  red  and  white,  in  grateful  variety ;  cover 
ing  nearly  thirty  acres  in  a  magnificent  park,  and  radiant  and 
glowing,  yet  transparent  under  the  mellow  shine  of  this  May 
morning !  Where  under  heaven  was  ever  raised  such  a  struc 
ture  of  beauty  and  magnificence  ?  We  have  read  of  glittering 
ice  turrets  among  the  Alps,  with  pillars  pellucid,  and  "  glorious 
as  the  gates  of  heaven  beneath  the  keen  full  moon."  Imagina- 


30  TJIE  BRITTLE  WONDER, 

tion  has  penetrated  the  earth  with  her  fires  and  illuminated 
grotto  within  grotto,  embossed  and  fretted,  and  reflecting  and  re 
fracting  the  light  into  manifold  splendors.  We  remember  the 
famous  ice-palace  of  the  Russian  Queen — that  Northern  wonder 
which  Cowper  illumined  with  his  fancy, — built  without  forest 
or  quarry,  whose  marble  was  the  glassy  wave,  whose  cement  was 
water,  and  which,  when -lighted  within,  gleamed  a  clear  transpa 
rency.  Somewhat  thus,  though  far  otherwise,  gleamed  this 
structure  of  JOSEPH  PAXTON — this  palace  of  Industry. 

So  stood  the  brittle  prodigy,  though  smooth, 
And  slip'ry  the  materials :  yet  fast  bound, 
Firm  as  a  rock.     Nor  wanted  aught  within 
That  regal  residence  might  well  befit 
For  grandeur  or  for  use. 

Mirrors  needed  none 

Where  all  was  vitreus. 

In  the  evanescent  glory  of  the  ice-palace,  the  poet  saw  an 
undesigned  severity  in  imagining  the  cold,  yet  glittering,  the 
durable,  yet  transient  fabric  of  human  grandeur  and  courtly 
pride.  How  is  it  with  this  Crystal  Palace,  wherein  is  really 
seen,  not  fantastically  imaged,  the  fruits  of  human  progress,  re 
sulting  from  the  common  labor  of  all  men,  springing  from  the 
germs  implanted  within  our  common  nature  by  our  Creator,  and 
by  Him,  in  his  own  good  pleasure  developed  into  forms  as  exquis 
ite  as  they  are  beautiful !  Yonder,  before  our  rapt  vision, 
stands  no  ice-frolic  of  haughty  power ;  but  a  glowing  enshrine- 
ment  for  the  objects  of  mingled  beauty  and  utility,  which  Thought 
has  produced  in  every  clime.  It  is  no  pyramidal  monument  to 
Pride,  no  classic  temple  for  Beauty  to  linger  under ;  but  a  form 
in  which  is  sanctified  the  loveliness  of  that  religion  which  would 
cultivate  the  amenities  of  good  will,  peace  and  purity  !  I  de 
voutly  thank  God,  that  He  has  permitted  me  to  view  this  com 
mon  shrine  among  the  nations — this  brittle,  yet  firm  bond  of 
brotherhood, — this  crystal  medium  through  which  a  better  day 
doth  glimmer. 


AXD  A  ROYAL  GHASE.  31 

To  have  stood  the  half  hour  we  were  compelled  to  stand, 
before  the  arched  centre,  awaiting  the  hour  of  admission,  and  to 
have  enjoyed  the  vision,  were  worth  a  pilgrimage  around  the 
world,  including  several  sea-voyages. 

We  pay  and  enter  severally.  Only  one  can  enter  at  a  time. 
Our  first  step  is  marked  down  by  a  machine,  which  tells  the 
number  who  visit  here  daily.  These  numbers  average  from 
thirty  to  fifty  thousand. 

It  was  no  sinecure  office  to  make  an  inventory  of  the  immen 
sity  of  the  minutiae  here  collected.  But  no  description,  however 
minute,  can  give  the  effect  of  the  first  view  from  the  centre  down 
the  four  aisles.  But  before  you  reach  that  centre,  you  pass  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Victoria,  flanked  by  two  pieces  of  statuary, 
— groups  of  Amazons, — and  Zephyr  and  Aurora.  Then  bursts 
upon  your  view  the  far-famed  glass  fountain,  under  the  dome, 
flinging  not  only  from  its  five  tons  of  flint  glass  every  hue  of  the 
prism  in  a  flood  of  beauty,  but  a  graceful  jet  of  water  which 
rivals  the  crystal  in  purity,  as  it  curls  in  a  smooth  sheet  and 
branches  into  a  myriad  of  lesser  prisms.  As  you  gaze  on  it, 
surrounded  by  palm  trees  from  Madagascar,  and  overshadowing 
foliage  with  flowers, 

The  growing  wonder  takes  a  thousand  shapes 
Capricious,  in  which  Fancy  seeks  in  vain 
The  likeness  of  some  object  seen  before. 

Thus  has  British  Art  worked  as  if  to  mock  at  Nature.  To 
my  eye,  each  radiant  point  of  this  fountain  gleamed  more  gor 
geously  than  the  great  diamond  "  Koh-i-Noor,"  or  Mountain 
of  Light,  which,  as  the  Queen's  contribution,  and  standing 
near  the  fountain  on  the  right,  deserves  high  honor  in  the  cata 
logue. 

We  have  you  at  the  fountain.  Before  you.  gush  and  bubble 
two  other  fountains,  interspersed  with  tropical  plants  and  every 
variety  of  flowers.  Each  one  of  these  flower  groups  would  re 
ward  an  hour's  view. 


32  THE  BRITTLE    WONDER. 


But  the  eye,  fond  of  the  garish,  espies  above,  the  carpets  of 
the  Orient  and  English  oil  cloths — immense  and  beautiful,  and 
the  hangings  of  a  tall  and  superb  pagoda — richer  far  in  color 
ings,  and  much  more  varied  in  forms,  than  even  the  flowers  of 
Nature.  Far  down  the  hall  flame  gorgeous  gallery  hangings. 
In  the  centre,  on  the  right  and  left,  are  lifted  above  the  other 
objects,  the  combat  of  the  horse  and  dragon,  the  Duke  of  Rut- 
and,  Godfrey  de  Bouillon,  the  Bavarian  lion — all  in  bronze  or 
laster,  very  much  magnified,  gigantic  and  imposing  !  Do  not 
let  your  eye  be  distracted  by  the  birds  in  the  large  glass  cases, 
though  gorgeous  and  glittering.  Do  not  stop  to  listen  to  the 
live  birds  which  are  flying  and  twittering  about  the  palace,  and 
amid  the  large  trees  at  either  end  of  the  transept.  Another 
caution — do  not  let  your  senses  be  ravished  by  the  organ  and 
harps  which,  from  the  galleries,  have  broken  forth  into  melody, 
vibrating,  strangely  mild  and  sweet  against  and  along  the  vitreus 
corridors.  But  let  the  eye,  like  the  gallant  Knight  of  Courtesy, 
Sir  G-UYON,  pass  through  the  Bowers  of  Bliss,  untempted  by  the 
"  silver  sweet  sound."  Let  it  take  in  the  lofty  summer-house  of 
bronze,  in  which  Appollo  matchlessly  stands,  after  sending  his 
arrow  through  the  eagle  above  ;  then,  the  fur  trophy,  the  Ross 
telescope,  the  marble  pillars,  the  chemical  monuments  of  alum, 
spermaceti,  Rochelle  salts,  tartrate  of  potash  and  soda,  illustra 
tions  of  Nature's  geometry  playing  into  utility  !  Nay,  go  on  ! 
See  the  rich  tracery,  the  superbness  and  elegance  of  that  altar 
screen  of  oak  ;  then  the  bird  trophy,  carved  by  machinery,  with 
deep  under-cuttings.  Passing  by  the  Elizabethan  fountains, 
what  strange  array  of  glass  is  that  beyond  ?  What  lenticular 
arrangements  could  produce  half  the  effect?  What  is  their 
use  ?  They  are  model  light-houses,  revolving  and  breaking  and 
casting  out  the  light,  not  for  the  view  of  beauty,  but  for  the 
glass  and  eye  of  the  navigator  amid  the  perils  of  the  deep  ! 

Remember  that  we  are  passing  over  the  heads  of  many  objects 
in  the  west  half  of  the  building — and  these,  too,  in  the  midst 
of  the  aisle.  I  have  not  dared  to  look  galleryward.  Neither 


AMD  A  ROYAL   CHASE.  33 

dare  we  go,  as  yet,  into  the  compartments  of  British  industry, 
which  lie  on  either  side  in  great  alcoves.  At  the  far  west  end, 
duplicating  the  whole  exhibition,  is  the  largest  mirror  in  the 
world,  18  feet  8  inches  by  10  feet!  There  are  other  mirrors 
nearly  as  large,  with  frames,  some  gilt,  carved  into  every  sort 
of  beasts,  birds,  creeping  thing,  flower  and  vegetable  ;  to  say 
nothing  of  little  Cupids  and  angels  inhabiting  the  involutions 
which  in  every  part  attest  the  consummation  of  art. 

This  end  we  have  reached  by  slow  procession,  moving  around 
each  department,  itself  a  world's  fair  in  itself,  and  decorated 
with  striking  elegance.  Here  the  cool  atmosphere  enters.  No 
oppressive  sense  from  heat,  or  confined  air,  disturbs  the  uniform 
comfort  of  the  building.  Although  fifty  thousand  people  are 
within,  yet  there  is  no  jostling,  no  disturbance.  The  police 
with  their  blue  coats,  brass  buttons  and  glazed  hats,  are  dis 
tributed,  with  a  few  red  coats,  around  ;  and  these,  without  other 
aid,  keep  the  vast  mass  in  order.  The  English  mostly  compose 
the  mass.  A  few  Chinese,  some  negroes,  French  in  plenty,  and 
some  other  foreigners — I  could  not  determine  what  part  of  the 
world  they  came  from — were  mingled  with  the  mass. 

The  observations  we  have  hitherto  made  have  been  confined 
exclusively  to  her  majesty's  dominions.  Neither  have  we  devi 
ated  into  the  apartments,  wherein  the  products  of  English  in 
dustry  are  systematically  arranged.  Systematically ;  because 
it  was  found,  upon  consideration,  that  the  materials  operated 
on,  and  the  results,  could  be  comprehended  in  thirty  classes. 
Grouping,  therefore,  as  to  Great  Britain,  was  regulated  by  the 
character  of  the  productions,  while  in  the  east  half  of  the  build 
ing,  and  in  the  colonies,  they  are  arranged  according  to  their 
districts. 

We  began  our  examination,  and  the  best  could  be  but  slight, 
by  proceeding  round  the  western  end  and  down  by  the  south 
wall.  Mineral  productions  and  mining,  and  the  agricultural 
implements,  we  passed  by  hastily ;  then  came  the  splendid  as 
sortment  of  woven  materials,  London,  Manchester,  and  Glas- 


34  THE  BRITTLE   WONDER, 

gow,  vieing  with  each  other  in  this  generous  rivalry.  Woollen 
and  mixed  fabrics,  and  Irish  flaxen  fabrics,  with  a  loom  of  ex 
quisite  construction  ready  to  show  how  the  fabrics  are  woven ; 
these,  in  all  their  wondrous  variety  of  figure  and  style,  riveted 
the  attention  of  our  ladies,  while  the  gentlemen  preferred  seeing 
the  smooth  and  intricate  machinery  in  the  northeast  of  the 
palace.  Oldham  and  Manchester,  with  their  cotton  works,  are 
here  reproduced  with  most  pleasing  effect.  The  great  business 
of  England  is,  at  a  glance,  observed  in  motion. 

To  depicture  the  furniture,  some  elaborately  carved  and  gilt ; 
.some  formed  of  peculiar  woods  and  arranged  in  perplexing  uni 
formity  and  variety ;  to  reproduce  the  papier  mache  tables  and 
ornaments,  with  their  gorgeous  hues  and  dazzling  beauties ;  to 
write  down — no  !  no  !  It  cannot  be  done. 

In  passing  through  one  part  of  this  department,  we  were 
astonished  to  find  the  British  Bible  Society  represented  by  one 
hundred  and  fifty-eight  copies  of  the  Word  of  Light  and  Life, 
each  in  a  separate  language.  There  they  stood,  all  opened,  with 
their  mysterious  symbols, — pervaded  by  the  holiest  of  inspira 
tion, — cloven  tongues  of  fire,  yet  dove-like  as  the  Holy  Ghost 
which  has  baptized  the  zeal  and  energy  of  this  noble  Society, 
preparatory  to  a  new  Pentecostal  day.  Each  Bible  had  its 
peculiarity  of  impress.  The  very  characters  indicated,  as  plainly 
as  the  diverse  features  of  the  human  face,  those  national  drver 
sities  and  antagonisms  which  can  only  be  harmonized  by  the 
spirit  enshrined  within  these  Bibles.  To  my  mind,  this  peculiar 
exhibition  was  the  crowning  trophy  of  English  Industry  and 
Genius.  The  wood  and  metal  trophies  from  Canada  are  massive 
evidences  of  English  empire  over  deep  mines  and  great  forests ; 
the  India  room  over  the  way,  lined  with  gold  cloth,  filled  with 
the  furniture  of  the  sumptuous  Orient  and  dazzling  with  jewels 
from  Lahore,  in  the  midst  whereof  is  lying,  in  humble  subjec 
tion,  three  strange-shaped  diamond-and-gold  crowns  of  Hindoo 
Kings  and  other  tributes  from  the  proud  sheiks  of  the  land 
which  Alexander  and  Bonaparte  could  not  comprehend  in  their 


AND  A  ROYAL   CHASE.  35 

conquests,  however  much  they  dreamed  of  the  glory, — is  another 
trophy  of  English  potency  in  Central  and  Southern  Asia,  god 
less  and  cruel  though  its  exercise  has  been ;  those  Kangaroo 
skins  and  coral  beauties,  jaspers  and  agates,  copper  and  gold, — 
do  they  not  tell  of  English  rule  over  antipodal  realms  in  the 
mid-ocean  ?  English  home-produce,  from  the  circular  comb  for 
carding  wool  up  to  yon  splendid  steam-ship  enginery,  from  that 
beer- barrel  machine  up  to  yon  process  for  engraving  on  steel  by 
electricity,  from  the  rudest  implement  of  primitive  husbandry 
up  to  the  highest  refinement  of  modern  science, — all  demonstrate 
a  power  to  dignify  ornamental  forms  by  use,  and  to  raise  merely 
useful  forms  into  beauty,  which  should  be  the  great  ambition  of 
Art ;  but  all  this  is  powerless  and  puny  beside  the  triumph 
which  radiates  from  those  Bibles,  with  their  lips  of  fire,  this 
moment  regenerating  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  pouring 
abroad  that  light  of  life 


;  which  never  was  on  land  or  sea.' 


England,  say  what  we  will,  stands  confessedly  the  Christian 
realm.  Her  history,  from  the  time  at  least  of  Elizabeth,  is  full 
of  her  influence  upon  the  policy  of  the  world,  in  opening  the 
way  for  the  gospel.  True,  her  rapacity  has  been  unbounded. 

"Heav'n,  Earth  and  Ocean  plundered  of  their  sweets," 

is  well  attested  by  this  Exhibition.  But  if  China  was  com 
pelled  to  take  opium,  she  had  to  take  the  Bible.  If  Turkey 
looked  to  England  for  aid  against  the  Russian  domination,  free 
toleration  to  Christians  was  consequent. 

With  the  increase  of  Anglo-Saxon  power,  there  has  been 
spread,  along  with  the  practicalness  of  the  age,  a  spirituality 
more  divine  than  the  soul,  with  all  its  power,  hath  yet  been 
gifted  to  imagine. 

There  is  one  article  in  the  furniture  list  which  elicited  a 
spontaneous  burst  of  admiration  from  us  all,  especially  the 
ladies,  who  have  been  used  to  seeing  homely  wooden  cradles, 


3(3  THE  BRITTLE   WONDER, 

if  not  sugar  troughs.  It  is  called  the  "  Regia  Cot,"  I  believe, 
and  is  thus  described : 

A  cradle  carved  in  Turkey  boxwood,  symbolizing  the  Union 
of  the  Royal  House  of  England  with  that  of  Saxe  Coburg  and 
Gotha.  One  end  exhibits  in  the  centre  the  armorial  bearings 
of  her  Majesty,  the  Queen,  surrounded  by  masses  of  foliage, 
natural  flowers  and  birds ;  on  the  rocker  beneath,  is  seen  the 
head  of  Night,  represented  as  a  beautiful  sleeping  female, 
crowned  with  a  garland  of  poppies,  supported  upon  bats'  wings, 
and  surrounded  by  seven  planets. 

The  other  end,  or  the  back  of  the  head  of  the  cradle,  is  de 
voted  to  the  arms  of  H.  11.  H.  Prince  Albert ;  the  shield  occu 
pies  the  centre,  and  round  it,  among  the  arabesque  foliage,  the 
six  crests  of  the  Prince  are  scattered,  with  the  motto,  u  Treu  und 
Fest."  Below,  on  the  rocker,  is  discovered  a  head  of  "  Somnus," 
with  closed  eyes,  and  over  the  chin  a  wimple,  which,  on  each 
side,  terminates  in  poppies. 

In  the  interior  of  the  head  of  the  cradle,  guardian  angels  are 
introduced ;  and  above,  the  royal  crown  is  imbedded  in  foliage. 
The  friezes,  forming  the  most  important  part  of  the  sides  of  the 
body  of  the  cradle,  are  composed  of  roses,  poppies,  conventional 
foliage,  butterflies  and  birds,  while  beneath  them  rise  a  variety 
of  pinks,  studied  from  nature.  The  edges  and  the  inside  of  the 
rockers  are  enriched  with  the  insignia  of  royalty  and  emblems 
of  repose. 

Have  done  quick  with  this  royal  baby  nest !  Quick  !  There 
is  a  crowd  across  the  aisle  among  the  paper  articles.  Sure 
enough,  there  is  a  curious  contrivance  !  What !  An  envelope 
maker  !  folding  by  one  click  of  a  machine  an  envelope,  and  pass 
ing  them  out  by  hundreds.  Only  a  little  boy  attending  it.  Now 
that  we  are  over,  we  may  observe  the  sea-weed  arrangements. 
How  snugly  they  lie  in  their  little  baskets  !  Euclid  illustrated 
and  illuminated  ;  a  model  of  St.  Paul's  cut  with  a  pen-knife,  and 
consisting  of  over  50,000  pieces.  Nay,  do  not  start ;  there  is  an 
article  in  Spain,  at  the  other  end  of  the  palace,  with  three  mil- 


AND  A   ROYAL   CHASE.  .         37 

lions  of  pieces  of  inlaid  wood  !   Most  elegant  landscapes  made  in 
this  way  upon  the  tables  and  other  furniture,  are  common. 

Here  we  are  amid  the  models  again.  Castles  overhung  with 
ivy,  houses  in  the  old  style,  complete  within  and  without.  E>en 
Shakspeare's  house  is  perfectly  represented,  and  the  room  where 
he  was  born,/ws£  as  it  was.  Now  we  have  the  model  of  a  tour 
nament,  now  of  Knox's  house  in  Edinburgh,  now  of  flower  gar 
dens  in  every  variety,  now  of  a  scene  upon  the  Danube,  now  the 
projected  pyramid,  in  which  five  millions  of  coffins  may  be  pre 
served  ;  now  we  are  among  the  medals,  needle-work,  pianos, 
porcelain,  chandeliers,  stained  windows ;  and  now,  do  take  breath 
to  look  at  the  Shakspeare  "  Jubileum."  Jubi — what?  Here  is 
dramatic  unity  for  you  !  Here  we  have  the  heart  of  the  English 
mind  in  all  its  windings  and  off-shoots.  Hazlitt  has  said,  "  that 
the  drama  is  a  root  growing  through  its  own  age,  out  of  the  Past 
into  the  Future."  We  have  the  Jubileum  as  one  of  its  stray 
blossoms.  Upon  it  is  represented  every  play  of  Shakspeare, 
from  old  Sir  John  in  the  basket  to  Richard  in  his  tent  of  ter 
rible  dreams.  A  strange  medley  ! 

Before  we  leave  this  end  of  the  building,  which  we  do  under 
oriental  umbrellas  with  long  silver  handles,  it  would  be  well, 
simply  to  glance  at  those  ox-horns  eight  feet  from  point  to  point, 
from  Good  Hope ;  those  wild  beast  skins  above,  those  sleighs 
and  furs  from  Canada,  that  Indian  riding  gear,  jewelled  saddles, 
elephant  accoutrements  and  some  other  trifles  from  the  British 
Colonies. 

Arm  in  arm,  let  us  quit  this  minute  examination  of  articles 
piece  by  piece,  and  proceed  up  the  palace  and  around  the  gal 
leries.  We  are  anxious  to  see  what  the  United  States  has  con 
tributed.  Softly  there.  To  tell  the  truth,  we  are  rather  a 
negative  quantity  in  this  exhibition.  Passing  by  the  exhibition 
of  the  European  nations,  we  reach  the  end  set  apart  for  the 
United  States. 

Plenty  of  room  was  allotted,  and  the  most  conspicuous.  The 
American  eagle  «  spreads  herself"  in  the  west  end,  over— little 


38  THE  BRITTLE   WONDER. 

or  nothing.  Punch  could  not  help  but  catch  at  the  idea.  "  No 
eagle,"  he  says,  "  asking  of  itself  where  it  should  dine,  and  hov 
ering  in  space  without  a  visible  mouthful,  could  represent  the 
grandeur  of  contemplative  solitude  better  than  is  shown  by  the 
United  States'  eagle  in  the  firmament  of  Mr.  Paxton's  Crystal. 
This  is  the  more  to  be  lamented,  inasmuch  as  a  very  little  con 
sideration  might  have  given  us  the  American  eagle,  with  the 
treasures  of  America  gathered  below  its  hovering  wings.  Why 
not  have  sent  some  choice  specimens  of  slaves?  We  have  the 
Greek  captive  in  dead  stone — why  not  the  Virginian  slave  in 
living  ebony  ?" 

The  satire  is  well  pointed.  We  feel  it  abroad.  The  thing 
above  all  others  which  I  was  proud  to  see  in  that  palace — the 
nonpareil  "  Slave"  of  Powers,  becomes  the  occasion  of  bye-word 
and  reproach.  The  most  refined  company  in  the  palace  were 
gathered  about  this  offspring  of  our  Ohio  sculptor,  admiring  in 
— silence.  After  passing  through  the  heavy  sculpture  and  gar 
ish  display  of  the  world's  art ;  after  the  sense  ached  to  faintness 
with  the  violence  of  the  colorings  of  luxury's  trapping,  it  was  a 
sweet  and  cordial  relief  to  stand  before  the  matchless  form  of 
the  pure  and  simple  Greek  girl,  mourning  so  deeply,  yet  so  sub- 
duedly,  at  her  fettered  destiny.  And  as  we  thought  of  the 
genius  of  the  sculptor,  the  lines  of  Shelley  glided  into  the  mind, 

"  It  was  for  thee,  yon  kingless  sphere  has  long 

Swung  blind  in  unascended  majesty." 

Aii  iron  safe  is  also  here,  so  constructed,  that  no  person  but 
the  inventor  can  open  it.  It  is  the  same  owned  by  Hobbs,  who 
is  called  at  home  the  great  lock-king.  At  a  meeting  to-day  of 
Americans  at  Trivort's,  I  met  the  genius.  He  has  put  all  the 
lockmakers  here  to  the  blush,  and  beat  Chubbs  himself.  By  a 
little  instrument  which  he  carries  in  his  vest,  he  picked  the  best 
lock  of  England  in  a  few  minutes.  He  stated  that  £10,000  for 
feit  could  be  raised  by  Englishmen  alone,  to  put  up  against  the 
big  diamond,  provided  they  would  give  him  a  night  to  pick  for 
it,  through  any  lock  in  England. 


AM)   A   ItOl'AL    CHASE.  39 

Various  excuses  have  been  made  for  our  country's  defection 
at  this  exhibition.  Tardiness  in  the  governments,  distance  from 
the  Exhibition,  and  bad  arrangements  here,  have  been  offered 
as  excuses.  We  trust  that  it  is  not  owing  to  a  want  of  the  ma 
terials  to  exhibit.  Had  the  last  Ohio  fair  been  culled  a  little, 
it  would  have  been  a  proud  exhibition  compared  to  this.  One 
item  ;  why  was  there  not  a  model  of  the  Burnet  House — n 
standard  hotel — sent  on  here  ?  It  would  have  been  quite  a  speci 
men  even  among  the  glorious  architecture  of  the  Past.  And  let 
me  delicately  hint,  that  a  real  Burnet  House  would  have  been 
an  acceptable  refuge  to  us  Americans. 

Let  us  ascend  the  galleries  and  take  a  farewell  (for  to-day) 
of  this  "  brittle  wonder."  From  a  seat  near  the  transept,  the 
eye  may  gather  in  glorious  unity  the  thousandfold  spectacle. 
Look  up  and  down  as  far  as  the  vision  can  distinctly  reach,  and 
you  will  see  but  one  moving  river  of  humanity,  flowing  amid 
margins  of  paintings,  hangings,  and  architectural  display;  and 
around  isles  of  fountains,  towers,  statues,  barges,  and  trophies  of 
every  color  and  form  ;  and  under  a  net-work  of  silver  lucency, 
seeming  to  be  hung  in  air !  Music  mingling  with  the  hum-hum- 
hum  of  the  rustling,  eager  throng,  and  with  the  tinkling  of  the 
fountains ;  birds  carolling  in  the  trees  before  and  behind  you — 
temples  and  booths,  flags,  organs,  and  segments  of  churches — not 
severally  (for  you  cannot  find  the  prominent  object  where  none 
has  its  parallel),  but  all  together  strike  your  bedazzled  view  as  a 

"  Glory  beyond  all  Glory  ever  seen." 

Can  ye  not  believe  in  something  transcendent,  as  the 
effluence  of  this  universal  jubilee  of  Industry  in  its  crystal 
home  ?  Hear  ye  not  prophetic  harpings  weaving  their  spell 
of  enchantment,  while  genius  paints  undying  pictures  of  that 
promised  day,  when  "  war  shall  cease  and  conquest  be  abjured," 
when  garlands  from  every  clime  shall  be  brought  to  deck  the 
Tree  of  Liberty  ! 


40  THE  BRITTLE  WONDER, 

The  eye  would  fain  close  on  the  scene  and  commit  it  to  the 
more  facile  play  of  the  imagination.  To  attempt  to  delineate 
it,  so  that  he  who  reads  may  see,  is  as  vain  as  to  attempt  to 
"  paint  chaos,  make  a  portrait  of  Proteus,  or  to  fix  the  figure 
of  the  fleeting  air."  We  must  only  attempt  in  our  further  ac 
quaintance  with  its  contents,  to  select  isolated  objects,  with 
their  several  utilities. 

Our  jaded  spirits  were  revived  by  a  little  incident  upon  the 
street,  as  we  drove  homeward.  There  is  no  particular  harm  in 
an  American  getting  a  glimpse  of  a  Queen  ;  as,  happily,  Queens 
are  such  rare  birds  in  our  land.  Let  no  harsh  Republican  mis 
take  the  motive  which  prompted  the  exploit,  which  issued  in 
a  full  view  of  royalty.  We  left  the  Crystal  Palace,  about  six 
P.  M.  Our  minds  were  completely  wearied  with  the  vision 
of  the  glorious  structure  and  its  splendid  contents — the  array 
of  diamonds  and  gold — India  riches,  French  elegance,  German 
ingenuity,  and  British  '  all  sorts.'  Pondering  these  things,  yet 
with  eyes  about  us  for  the  mirabile  of  the  metropolis,  we 
drove  down  Green  Park  (these  London  parks,  oh  !  but  they  are 
emerald  gems  in  their  rough  setting  of  aristocratic  mortar !) 
and  into  famous  Oxford  street ; — When  lo  !  a  couple  of  out 
riders  dressed  in  red — then  a  splendid  open  carriage  (it  was  a 
bright  day),  drawn  by  six  horses  with  red  riders,  then — (keep 
cool !)  two  other  riders  with  livery ;  and  then — (steady  sir  !) 
two  other  red  fellows,  with  canes  and  on  horseback,  who  looked 
as  savage  as  catamounts  at  a  hack  driver  that  did  not  give  way 
immediately.  This  unexpected  array  rather  beclouded  our 
senses,  already  intoxicated  with  the  sights  of  fountains,  gold 
cloths,  pagodas,  carpets,  trees,  Hindoo  rooms,  statuary,  and 
every  thing  else  conceivable  in  the  world.  It  was  a  theatrical 
show  in  every  deed — a  dashing  splendor  ! 

What  can  it  mean  ?  My  head  goes  out  inquiringly.  I  see 
hats  going  off  on  both  sides.  Drivers  give  way.  "  I  say  driver— 
isn't  that  the  Queen  herself!"  "  It's  'ur  zur."  Hurrah  !  "  Then 
drive  after — give  chase— extra  shilling — crack  up — all  right  ! 


AM)  A  ROYAL   CHASE.  41 

we're  sovereigns  ourselves,  sir  ;  give  us  an  equal  chance  to  the 
pave  !"  Away  dashed  royalty  in  her  elegant  coach !  away 
dashed — we,  in  an  indifferent  four-wheeled  cab  !  I  noticed  as 
we  passed  a  little  fellow  dressed  in  a  silver-laced  cap — a  hand 
some  little  fellow,  and  quite  a  pretty  little  girl  on  the  front 
seat ;  and  behind,  the  Queen,  an  ordinarily  dressed  and  tolerable 
good-looking  woman — not  unlike  Mrs.  A.,  Mrs.  B.,  or  Mrs. 
C.j  of  our  humble  vicinage. 

We  sovereigns  of  America  gained  on  her  of  England.  The 
outriders  did  not  look  savagely  around  at  us ;  but  as  we  got 
pretty  close,  to  our  utter  amazement  and  mortification,  the 
Queen  herself  turned  round,  and  gave  us  a  good-natured  look 
and  a  full  view.  We  had  a  hearty  laugh  at  our  good  fortune, 
and  came  home  full  of  the  Exhibition,  and  feeling  quite  royally. 


IV. 

§tt  (gulislj 


«  Away  they  go  !    One  retires  to  his  country-house,  and  another  is  engaged  at  a  horse 
race  ;  and  as  to  their  country  -  1"  Junius 


w 


HO  has  not  read  Oliver  Goldsmith's  "  Citizen  of  the 
World  ?"  The  remarks  of  his  Chinese  pilgrim  in  London 
seem  to  be  applicable  to  myself.  He  felt  himself  as  a  newly 
created  being,  introduced  into  a  new  world  in  which,  although 
every  object  strikes  with  wonder  and  surprise,  yet  the  imagina 
tion  is  still  unsated.  Although  the  world  has  passed  through 
it  in  exhibition ;  and  London  with  her  majestic  architecture, 
regal  parks,  and  soul- thrilling  historical  associations  has  been 
around  and  within,  still  imagination  seems  to  be  the  only  active 
principle  of  the  mind.  The  most  trifling  occurrence  gives 
pleasure  until  the  gloss  of  novelty  is  worn  away.  When  I  have 
ceased  to  wonder,  I  may  possibly  grow  wise  ;  I  may  then  call 
the  reasoning  principle  to  my  aid,  and  compare  those  objects 
with  each  other,  which  were  before  examined  without  reflec 
tion. 

It  is  a  beautiful  May  morning.  Birds  are  singing.  Their 
shrill  sweetness  rises  even  above  the  "  London  cries."  To  me 
it  seems  strange  that  the  painters  upon  the  building  opposite, 
do  not  start  or  tumble  down,  at  the  unearthly  whoops,  groans, 
yells,  and  yawns  below  them,  which  announce  the  vender  of 
something.  I  could  only  distinguish  one  vegetable  in  the  med 
ley  7 «  Aws-pautr-goose!"  If  Bedlam  were  out  a-Maying,  it 

would  do  justice  to  these  '  cries' — to  my  novel  hearing. 

In  these  transcripts  from  the  eye,  I  know  that  I  am  unable 


AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA.  43 

to  disseminate  any  useful  principle,  or  afford  any  useful  instruc 
tion.  Beautiful  parks  and  lofty  monuments  pass  so  rapidly  in 
view,  that  my  stare  at  them  is  almost  vacant.  The  highest  part 
of  our  human  nature  is  not  exercised.  There  can  be  no  commu 
nion  of  soul  with  them  as  yet.  We  might  gaze  for  ever  and 
gratify  the  pleasure-loving  propensity,  and  return  home  no  wiser 
than  we  departed.  But  when  one  goes  out  into  the  English 
country,  as  I  did  on  Thursday  to  Epsom,  on  the  great  Derby 
race  day,  the  scenes  of  nature,  with  their  hedges  and  vistas  of 
trees,  their  meadows  and  cottages,  all  assemble  upon  the  thresh 
old  of  the  mind,  and  many — very  many,  of  these  beauties  enter 
into  the  internal  economy  of  ideas  and  sentiment,  there  fadelessly 
to  bloom — there  continually  to  awaken  something  correspondent 
to  their  hue,  form,  and  grandeur.  I  might  reproduce  these 
descriptions  ;  but  there  is  so  much  of  human  nature  to  com 
mune  with  on  this  Derby  day,  that  I  forbear.  Besides,  as  Dr. 
Cheever  has  well  said,  mere  descriptions,  be  the  scenery  ever  so 
grand,  are  cloying  and  tiresome.  It  is  like  living  upon  pound 
cake  and  cream,  or  rather  upon  whip-syllabub. 

A  Derby  day  awakens  more  interest  in  London,  than  any 
other  day  in  the  Calendar.  Every  vehicle,  from  the  splendid 
coach  of  Royalty  and  Dukery  to  the  humble  dog-cart  and  pony 
phaeton  of  the  mechanic  and  shopman,  are  in  requisition.  Five 
thousand  pounds  is  the  stake,  and  millions  more  in  the  shape  of 
bets  are  in  the  scale.  The  "  nobs"  (as  the  nobility  are  famil 
iarly  called),  with  their  four-in-hand  coaches,  are  the  prominent 
actors  in  the  day.  They  own  most  of  the  race-horses. 

But  we  will  start  ourselves.  Lunch  being  prepared,  and  a 
vehicle  entered,  we  hurry  by  the  gorgeous  array  in  Oxford  and 
Regent-streets,  pass  the  parks,  those  green  metropolitan  lungs, 
and  give  a  hasty  glance  at  the  statue  of  Canning.  Now  Trafal 
gar  square  appears,  and  the  Nelson  monument  long  detains  the 
lingering  sight.  It  is  the  finest  place  in  London  for  a  monu 
ment.  The  column  and  statue  are  177  feet  high.  The  statues 
of  the  Georges  III.  and  IV.,  are  near,  and  serve  to  show  off 


44  AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA. 

this  splendid  monument  to  England's  naval  glory.  The  Na 
tional  Gallery  is  opposite ;  but  the  Nelson  pillar  detracts  from 
every  other  object.  Its  bas-reliefs  represent  the  famous  battle 
of  Trafalgar.  How  the  eye  swims  as  it  upward  gazes  at  the 
figure.  A  coil  of  rope  relieves  the  pediment  upon  which  he  is 

placed. 

Up  in  the  broad  day's  lustre  doth  it  stand, 
A  column  raised  to  dear  and  dazzling  fame, 
Mounting  with  pride  the  bosom  of  the  land, 
And  stamping  glory  there  with  Nelson's  name. 

And  yet  methinks,  that  face  lifted  up  so  prominently  in  the 
"  bosom  of  the  land"  doth  blush,  if  not  in  the  broad  day's  lus 
tre,  yet  at  evening's  reddening  glow,  when  contemplation  de 
lights  in  pure  thoughts  and  virtuous  actions.  Read  Nelson's 
private  life.  Doth  not  the  sea  through  which  he  sailed  become 
incarnadine  with  shame  ? 

How  much  of  debauchery  and  wretchedness  has  been  caused 
by  the  force  of  that  splendid  example  which  the  monumental 
structures  of  England  have  illustrated,  can  only  be  known  in 
that  day,  when  the  Judge  of  all  shall  winnow  the  purity  of  a 
heart  from  the  glory  of  a  name,  and  leave  the  latter  as  chaff  for 
the  fire. 

Soon  we  came  in  sight  of  old  Westminster.  How  streaked 
and  blackened  with  age  look  the  old  towers  !  How  the  heart 
swells  with  the  vast  proportions  !  Tracery,  towers,  niches,  sta 
tues,  frieze,  and  every  other  architectural  appliance  which  ren 
der  the  Gothic  a  wilderness  of  arching  foliage,  "  star  proof"  in 
its  woven  web  of  beauty,  are  here  in  profuse  variety.  And  the 
Abbey— the  most  interesting  place  in  England— the  urn  of  her 
greatness— the  treasury  of  her  genius— the  Conqueror  of  Time  ; 
—does  it  not  shut  out  all  other  objects?  But  we  must  reserve 
our  thoughts  until  we  go  within. 

The  Derby  will  start  before  we  run  over  our  20  miles  to 
the  turf.  Now  we  dart  down  toward  Vauxhall,  and  "  Father 
Thames"  is  emptying  his  pitcher  beneath  us.  How  many  re- 


AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA.  45 

flections  seem  cast  in  his  waters.  How  splendid  he  seemed  to 
the  imagination,  before  we  looked  down  upon  his  familiar  face. 
The  English  poets  had  never  seen  our  western  streams — the 
magnificent  Mississippi  and  the  beautiful  Ohio,  else  they  would 
not  have  extolled  so  highly  the  charms  of  this  little  river, 
li'rue,  grandeur  hath  gathered  many  monuments  of  fame  and 
pride  upon  its  banks,  and  Art  hath  created  landscapes  which 
'•  peep  into  its  tide  ;"  but  Nature  was  never  less  prodigal  than  in 
her  decoration  of  the  Thames. 

We  saw  St.  James's  palace  beyond  the  Green  Park,  with  the 
royal  arms  floating  in  the  sunshine,  a  sign  of  the  presence  of  the 
Queen.  It  was  a  scene  thronging  with  recollections.  There 
once  stood  the  hospital  dedicated  to  St.  James,  for  the  reception 
of  the  fourteen  leprous  maidens. — What  tales  could  those  old 
stones  tell ! — There  Charles  the  First  attended  divine  service, 
before  he  walked  through  the  Park  to  his  scaffold  at  Whitehall. 
In  that  very  palace,  MONK  and  Sir  JOHN  GRANVILLE  planned  the 
Restoration.  There,  within  our  vision, 

"  through  the  towers,  amidst  his  ring 

Of  Vans  and  Mynheers  rode  the  Dutchman  King, 
And  there  did  England's  Goneril  thrill  to  hear 
The  shouts  that  triumphed  o'er  her  crownless  Lear." 

Yonder,  old  HARRY  the  Eighth  chuckled  at  the  jokes  of  his 
witty  Chancellor,  SIR  THOMAS  MORE,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vile 
pranks  of  that  pure  "  Defender  of  the  Faith."  There  WALPOLE 
practised  his  shameless  venality,  and  BOLINGBROKE  (Pope's 
Maecenas)  lounged  up  to  see  the  queenly  Anne.  Now,  amid  the 
whirl  and  stir,  the  present  usurps  the  past,  and  St.  James's  be 
comes  the  home  of  the  little  VICTORIA  and  her  numerous  family, 
the  sight  of  whom,  as  detailed  in  our  last  chapter,  tickled  our 
democratic  feelings. 

Five  bridges  span  the  Thames,  over  one  of  which,  Yauxhall, 
we  ride  toward  Epsom.  Granite  and  iron  make  Vauxhall  only 
second  to  Waterloo  bridge.  From  it  we  have  a  view,  as  yet  a 
little  misty,  of  the  most  splendid  architectural  display  in  Great 


46  AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA. 

Britain.  I  mean  the  new  Houses  of  Parliament.  They  front 
the  Thames,  and  extend  to  the  water's  edge.  It  is  ower  true,  as 
one  of  England's  poets  has  said,  that  the  Thames  does  not  re 
semble  any  of  those  streams  whose  foam  is  amber,  and  whose 
gravel,  gold.  Dirty-looking,  even  to  the  depth  of  filthiness,  is 
her  appearance.  Can  she  be  the  same  crystal  mirror  in  which 
Eton  and  Windsor  dress  themselves  every  day  in  their  Gothic 
costumes  ?  Her  "  oozy  bed  "  is  no  doubt  full  of  argosies  which 
contain  the  riches  of  the  Indies ;  but  there  are  some  riches  there 
imbedded  which  are  neither  beautiful  nor  fragrant.  The  river 
is  washed  out  by  the  tide  twice  a  day — quite  a  consolation  to 
the  nose-possessing  and  water-drinking  community. 

Now  we  are  fairly  over  into  Surrey.  Vehicles  are  beginning 
to  close  in.  We  are  compelled  to  walk,  and  even  to  stand  still. 
Three  abreast,  yet  packed  close,  and  not  within  seventeen  miles 
of  Epsom.  Does  it  not  beat  every  thing  ?  It  is  the  English 
Saturnalia.  Every  body  is  privileged  to  joke  every  body.  '  Nobs' 
joke  'snobs;'  and  donkey  carts  sauce  'Hansom  cabs.' — Club 
men  in  their  coaches  halloo  to  pretty  boarding-school  misses, 
peeping  over  their  green  walls,  which  line  the  pike,  who  snicker 
and  chuckle.  Old  Johnny  Bull,  red  with  jollity,  rides  along, 
"  holding  both  his  sides."  Now  and  then  a  smash  and  curses 
announce  something  serious.  We  ourselves  had  the  honor  of 
being  bumped  by  Lord  Strathmore's  carriage,  and  took  the 
license  of  the  day  to  caution  his  Lordship. — Toll-gates  and 
hiring  taxes  (?)  are  collected.  Stopping  and  walking,  we  finally 
pass  through  the  last  gate,  and  dash  away  over  the  furzy  Downs. 

The  prospect  from  the  Downs  is  magnificent.  Far  below, 
and  very  distant,  is  seen  the  elements  of  English  civilization — 
rail-cars  puffing,  roads  lined  with  hedges  ;  farms  laid  out  like 
gardens,  and  gardens  like  paradises ;  towers  standing  upon 
high  points,  and,  as  we  turn  about,  we  see  the  stand  and  turf  of 
Epsom  ! 

Although  we  were  a  long  time  getting  to  Epsom,  we  are 
glad  to  find  the  "  Derby"  is  not  run.  Let  us  mount  upon  the 


AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA.  47 

top  of  the  vehicle  and  look  around.  For  miles,  right  and  left, 
are  the  people.  The  best  part  of  a  million  are  here  assembled  ; 
among  them  are  the  royal  house  of  Prussia,  with  their  cream- 
colored  team,  as  well  as  the  poorest  ragamuffin,  just  discharged 
from  Old  Bailey,  with  his  stick  and  crownless  hat. — The  track  is 
upon  a  side-hill  turf,  and  is  in  excellent  order.  It  is  a  hundred 
feet  wide,  but  hardly  distinguishable  in  the  mingled  mass  of  men. 
Inhere  is  a  little  valley  between  us  and  the  turf.  A  continuous 
rise  is  used,  which  affords  a  fine  prospect  of  the  race.  The  stand 
is  on  the  other  side,  and  its  adjacent  booth  is  perfectly  black 
with  heads.  All  around  it  for  acres  is  the  same  phenomena. 
Now  a  bell  rings.  The  police  march  up  the  track  to  clear  it. 
Every  body  is  opening  baskets.  Wines  and  sodas  pop ;  sand 
wiches  and  shrimps  appear ;  pies  and  birds  are  demolished, 
amid  cries  of  "  water,"  "  oranges," — "  who  wants  a  card  of  the 
races  ?  "  Fiddling  and  horn-tooting  all  around, — a  fool  dancing 
in  woman's  clothes,  with  a  red  calash  on  his  head,  and  a  parasol, 
mimicking  fine  ladies,  while  the  fine  ladies  in  lordly  carriages 
are  looking  on  laughingly  ;  gipsies,  wild  in  look  and  with  eyes 
dark  and  sinister,  are  roving  about. — See,  they  have  that  young 
man  !  "  Tell  your  fortune,  pretty  gentleman?  You  will  be  for 
tunate,  oh,  yes  !  only  leave  a  gipsy  a  sixpence,  sir  ;  will  be  a 
lucky  one  in  the  race,  sir, "  and  with  other  like  remarks,  she 
hangs  on  like  a  snapping  turtle.  All  these  scenes  are  transpiring, 
while  an  enormous  shout  and  laugh  go  up  from  the  crowd  along  the 
ropes.  The  police  had  cleared  the  track — it  is  only  a  dog  or 
a  loafer  trying  to  run  across,  with  a  policeman  after.  Away 
they  go  in  a  mimic  race  ! 

The  coast  is  clear.  With  a  glass,  you  may  see  the  many  co 
lored  jockeys  mounting.  Now  comes  the  preparatory  galloping 
to  loosen  the  horses'  joints.  Up  they  ride,  and  bets  begin  to  run 
by  colors.  All  now  is  still.  We  cannot  see  the  start.  The  cry 
rises,  "  they're  off!"  The  black  heads  in  and  around  the  stand 
have  become  a  sea  of  upturned  faces.  We  hear  the  tramp  of 
horses  on  the  distant  turf.  Horsemen  ride  over  the  hill  to  catch 


48  AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA. 

the  sight.  Now  the  race-horses  appear  around  the  hill  nearly  all 
together ;  yet  so  far  distant,  that  they  seem  to  move  slowly ; 
soon  they  begin  to  be  clearly  distinguished.  "  Hurrah  for  the 
blue-cap  ! — hurrah  for  the  red  ! — black  cap  and  pink  ahead  !"  In 
fine  style  they  dash  between  the  anxious  heads.  The  tug  is  be 
tween  the  black  cap  and  pink,  and  blue.  Thousands  are  staked 
upon  the  result.  The  cry  is,  now  for  one — now  for  the  other  ! 
On  they  all  "  bicker  and  burn  to  gain  the  expected  goal."  In  a 
twinkling  they  dash  home.  The  number  is  run  up,  and  the  wel 
kin  rings  and  re-rings  with  the  shout  of  immense  multitudes. 
The  track  is  soon  broken  over.  The  throng  rushes  toward  the 
stand.  The  Derby  is  done  and  won  !  Millions  have  been  lost 
and  gained.  Freely  pop  the  wine  bottles  of  the  victors  ;  merrily 
ring  their  laughs  !  Up  rise  thousands  of  carrier  pigeons  to  an 
nounce  the  result  abroad ! 

Now  comes  a  scene  which  carries  us  back  to  the  good  old 
days  of  Queen  Bess — such  as  Scott  describes  in  his  Kenilworth 
— the  days  of  the  tournaments.  Rings  are  formed.  Circus 
sports  are  going  on  upon  the  turf;  dancing  girls  are  soon  trans 
muted  by  some  magic  from  ordinary  females ;  magical  gentle 
men  begin  to  throw  up  rings,  butcher-knives,  etc.  ;  music  breaks 
out  from  all  sides  ;  gipsies  burst  anew  from  their  tents ;  and — 
hark  ! — "  'ansum  and  hinteresting  presents  for  hinfants  !  only  a 
penny  !  'ave  one  sir  ?" — "  'Ere's  silver-tipped  buttons  for  'olding 
coats  together — made  out  of  coal !"  "  Sody-water  !  Ginger- 
beer-r-r !"  and  a  hundred  other  cries.  Beyond  the  turf,  the 
manly  sports  are  going  on,  such  as  firing  at  targets,  pitching  at 
points,  and  divers  other  things  to  me  unknown.  The  turf  was 
cleared  again — another  race — the  same  excitement ;  the  air  is 
again  filled  with  pigeons,  who  dart  around  for  awhile  uncertain 
where  to  go  ;  then  off  with  their  news. 

Again,  we  are  upon  the  road  homeward,  amid  the  flowery 
meadows,  and  the  hedges  or  walls  of  ivy,  and  sometimes  of 
flowers.  The  trees  look  so  trim  and  perfect.  Each  for  itself 
seems  "  dressed  in  living  green."  As  well  attempt  to  separate 


AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA.  49 

color  from  the  rainbow,  or  extension  from  matter,  as  Beauty 
from  these  vistas  made  by  the  lines  of  elm,  flowering  chestnut 
and  birch,  filled  with  their  little  winged  singing  people.  The 
leaves  will  grow  in  freshness,  and  the  robins,  thrushes,  and 
larks,  like  Jenny  Lind,  must,  although  they  know  not  why — be 
"  singing." 

On  our  road  to  London,  we  find  every  body  out  to  see  the 
"  Derby "  return.  It  sometimes  comes  home  boozy.  Long 
arrays  of  Charity  scholars  in  their  uniforms,  and  boys  from 
school  are  out,  under  the  charge  of  masters.  Policemen  are 
stationed  all  along.  Within  five  miles  of  London,  the  road  is 
lined  ten  or  twenty  deep.  Punch  and  Judy,  negro  singers, 
dancers,  bag-pipers  from  Scotland,  are  mingled  with  the  throng, 
performing.  Every  body  is  privileged  to  say  what  comes  upper 
most.  Although  an  entire  stranger  amid  this  crowd  of  myriads, 
I  drank  several  imaginary  healths  from  off  my  seat,  to  gentle 
men  with  mugs  on  the  top  of  the  walls  ;  exchanged  spunk  with 
the  spunky,  laughs  with  the  good-natured,  words  with  the  fami 
liar,  and  altogether  felt  at  home.  Wit  and  humor  followed  us 
through  the  large  commons  into  the  very  city.  We  thought  we 
had  left  London  at  Epsom,  but  the  million  seemed  to  be  waiting 
for  their  horse-racing  brethren  to  return. 

The  moral  effect  of  these  vast  assemblages,  patronized  as 
they  are  by  royalty  itself,  (for  the  Queen  has  her  stand,)  it  is  not 
for  me  to  speak  of.  The  Englishman  prepares  his  "book  of  bets" 
a  year  beforehand,  and  comes  up  yearly  to  offer  his  incense  to  his 
favorite  racer.  We  have  in  America  very  few  of  these  sportive 
gatherings.  Some  regard  it  as  a  great  defect  in  our  social 
organism.  Let  such  remember  that  the  sun,  which  by  its  genial 
heat  promotes  the  growth  of  vegetation,  produces  also  by  its 
heat  the  poisonous  vapor. 

We  have  lost  a  day  from  the  Exhibition,  but  we  were  com 
pensated  by  many  insights  into  English  manners  and  character, 
which  long  months  of  ordinary  residence  could  not  give.  We 
saw  a  nation  forgetful  of  itself,  its  dignity,  its  glory,  and  the 


5Q  AN  ENGLISH  SATURNALIA. 

"relict  radiance   of  its  past  ages,"   besotting  itself  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  beast-racing,  and  the  intoxication  of  gambling. 
Can  this  be  the  England  whose  abbeys,  monuments,  and  palace 
of  stone  and  crystal,  rise  so  proudly  in  her  metropolis  ?    Strange 
and  uncouth,  sounds  this  revel  of  racing,  amid  these  hallowec 
localities,  where  Antiquity  is  a  presence  and  a  power;  as  strange 
and  as  uncouth  as  would  a  vacant  laugh  or  a  squeaking  f 
amidst  the  diapason  and  «  Te  Deum,"  which  rolls  and  swel 
along  the  fretted  roof  of  the  cathedral ! 


V. 


"  Yet  who  not  listens  with  delighted  smile 
To  the  pure  Saxon  of  that  silver  style." 

NEW  TIMON. 


the  kindness  of  our  Minister.  Mr.  LAWRENCE,  I 
-L  received  a  ticket  for  the  House  of  Commons.  By  its 
potency,  I  found  myself  at  five  last  evening  occupying  (per 
haps  by  mistake)  a  seat  in  the  little  lobby,  connected  with, 
and  reserved  for  the  House  of  Lords.  The  galleries  above  were 
pretty  full,  mostly  of  Americans  ;  for  strangers  from  the  Conti 
nent  seldom  visit  the  '  Commons.'  My  company  was  rather 
more  aristocratic  than  I  had  been  accustomed  to.  However, 
taking  a  stranger's  privilege,  I  learned  from  my  right-hand 
man,  whom  I  afterwards  found  out  to  be  Lord  LYNDHURST,  the 
late  Lord  High  Chancellor,  and  from  those  in  front,  one  of 
whom  was  the  Earl  of  Minto,  late  Ambassador  to  Rome,  and 
father-in-law  of  the  Premier  —  all  I  wanted  to  know  as  to  the 
rules  and  constitution  of  the  House,  repaying  them  in  kind,  by 
answering  their  queries  as  to  our  legislative  assemblies.  Let 
me  here  say,  that  however  exclusive  the  English  nobility  seem 
in  the  streets  and  in  their  houses,  there  is  a  perfect  courtesy 
and  urbanity  among  those  whom  I  here  observed.  There  was 
a  full  attendance  of  the  Commons,  and  a  large  number  of  the 
upper  house  present  to  hear  the  discussion  on  the  Catholic  bill. 
The  House  is  opposite  Westminster  Abbey.  You  reach  the 
Hall  through  long  passages  guarded  by  several  porters.  It 
is  not  much  larger  than  our  Senate  room  in  Columbus,  rather 


THE  COMMONS. 


longer,  not  so  wide.  There  is  but  one  desk  under  the  speaker's 
chair,  in  which  three  wigged  gentlemen  sit  scribbling.  The 
speaker  is  gowned  and  wigged.  He  is  a  large,  red-faced,  thick- 
tongued,  old  Saxon,  full  of  verbosity  and  consequence.  He  is 
the  only  member  who  has  his  hat  off.  It  strikes  an  American 
strangely,  to  see  the  deliberative  gravity  of  the  greatest  power 
in  Christendom,  sitting  ranged  in  seats,  with  their  hats  on.  This 
custom  will,  perhaps,  account  for  the  number  of  bald  heads 
among  the  English.  You  cannot  see  their  eyes  or  faces  except 
when  they  arise  to  speak.  At  first  blush  one  is  apt  to  condemn 
the  assembly,  as  a  convention  of  stupidity  and  carelessness. 
Yet  there  is  an  agreeable  surprise,  in  finding  so  much  ease,  and 
compared  to  my  previous  fancy,  so  very  little  formality  in  the 
arrangement  and  conduct  of  the  House. 

The  preliminary  business  being  over,  a  Quakerly  dressed 
man  (you  might  know  that  it  is  BRIGHT,  Cobden's  free-trade, 
right-hand  man  !)  rises  to  complain  of  a  trick  of  the.  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury,  and  is  responded  to  by  the  Speaker.  By  his 
gestures  you  may  discern  where  and  how  parties  are  arranged. 
On  the  left,  upon  the  lowest  bench,  sits  Lord  John  Russell,  his 
hat  down  over  his  head,  as  Punch  caricatures  him.  Upon  the 
left-hand  side  and  near,  are  the  supporters  of  the  Government. 
Opposite  you  may  see  an  intelligent-looking,  black  and  curly- 
haired,  neatly  dressed  gentleman.  That  is  D'!SRAELI,  the  au 
thor  of  "  Tancred,"  and  the  conservative  leader.  Just  above 
him  is  Mr.  WALPOLE.  a  rising  man,  who  (as  I  was  informed  by 
a  noble  Lord)  would  be  the  conservative  Attorney  General  in 
case  of  a  change.  This  is  the  Tory,  Protection,  or  Conservative 
wing.  At  this  end,  near  where  I  sit,  are  the  Irish  members, 
most  of  them  in  opposition  just  now  to  the  Government,  on  ac 
count  of  the  "  ecclesiastical  titles'  bill,"  which  is  the  theme  for 
to-night's  debate.  Still,  the  Irish  members  do  not  act  together 
against  the  Government,  as  is  indicated  by  the  position  of  John 
O'Connell,  that  red-faced,  good-natured,  stumpy  man  just  facing 
the  Speaker,  on  neither  side.  He  is  on  the  fence.  You  may 


THE  COMMONS.  53 

tell  the  Irish  members  by  their  faces,  without  hearing  a  word 
of  brogue. 

My  impression,  when  first  looking  upon  this  scene,  was  one 
of  deep  disappointment.  It  is  -cruel  to  have  one's  anticipations 
crushed  so  suddenly,  when  there  is  crushed  with  them  so  much 
of  greatness,  splendor,  and  ability,  which  have  ever  been  asso 
ciated  in  the  mind  with  the  English  Parliament.  I  said  to  my- 
se^f  almost  bitterly,  "  Is  this  the  famous  Parliament  wherein 
SIR  EDWARD  COKE,  SELDEN,  PRYNNE,  HARRY  VANE,  PYM, 
HAMPDEN,  and  •  OLD  NOLL,"  battled  the  kingly  prerogative  of 
the  Tudor  and  the  Stuart ;  declaring  by  charters  and  bills  of 
right,  '  Apologies'  and  remonstrances,  that  there  was  no  other 
source  of  legislation  or  revenue,  than  this  their  own  Commons, 
one  of  the  estates  of  the  realm,  whose  laws  could  brook  no  '  dis 
pensing' from  kingcraft?  Is  this  stupid-looking,  hat-wearing, 
vociferating  body,  the  same  ordeal  through  which  ST.  JOHN,  by 
the  persuasion  of  his  eloquence,  and  the  force  of  his  invective, 
and  through  which  the  young  cornet  PITT,  by  the  command  of 
his  eloquence  entered  the  portals  of  power,  to  lose  it  by  becom 
ing  respectively  Bolingbroke  and  Chatham — lords  yet  more 
than  peers  of  the  upper  house  ?  Is  this  the  forum  where  ED 
MUND  BURKE  displayed  the  riches  of  his  lore  and  the  glory  of 
his  imagination — where  SHERIDAN  electrified  the  house  with  his 
wit  ?  where  NORTH,  the  Palinurus  of  the  State,  slept  through 
the  assaults  of  the  best  genius  of  England,  leaving  his  haughty 
solicitor  and  attorney  to  pilot  his  sleeping  course  and  defend 
his  waking  course  1  Is  this  the  theatre  where  GEORGE  CANNING, 
whose  statue  I  just  passed  in  the  twilight,  starred  his  short 
season  of  ministerial  power — where  the  younger  PITT,  by  severe 
and  never-failing  logic,  held  so  long  the  rule  of  British  politics 
during  its  severest  storms — where  Fox  "  graced  the  fervor  "  of 
the  hour,  by  winged  words  which  bore  the  spirit  of  great  deeds? 
Can  it  be  that  in  this  assemblage  there  still  lives  a  single 
breath  of  the  old  vitality,  which  made,  to  my  mind,  the  English 
House  of  Commons  the  finest  arena  for  intellectual  tilting  tho 


54  THE  COMMONS. 

world  has  witnessed,  since  Athens  boasted  her  Agora  with  her 
Pericles  and  Demosthenes  ;  or  Rome  her  forum  with  her  Tully 
and  Hortensius  ?  Is  this  the  scene  of  WILKES  and  his  agita 
tion  ?  Was  it  here  that  the  proud  shade  of  JUNIUS  hovered,  to 
collect  the  rays  of  that  reason  and  indignation  wherewith  to 
illumine  the  English  constitution  and  consume  its  enemies? 
It  was  here  that  my  throbbing  heart  expected  to  find  fulfilled 
Burke's  graceful  idea  of  sovereignty,  "  modest  splendor,  unas 
suming  state,  mild  majesty,  and  sober  pomp." 

Scarcely  had  the  debate  on  the  Popery  bill  began,  before  all 
these  reflections  were  put  to  rout  by  a  movement  of  the  parlia 
mentary  appetite.  There  was  a  rush  after — supper.  An  Irish 
member,  Mr.  REYNOLDS,  formerly  Lord  Mayor  of  Dublin,  hit 
the  incident  off  very  happily.  He  arose,  as  Ireland  generally 
does,  amid  groans  of  "  Oh  !"  He  perceived  that  some  Hon. 
members  were  anxious  to  dine.  A  celebrated  English  poet  had 
said  that  "  wretches  hang  that  jurymen  may  dine." — Now  he 
would  not  assert  that  some  Hon.  gentlemen  would  hang  the 
Pope  "  rather  than  eat  their  mutton  cold,"  but  he  believed  they 
would  not  hesitate  to  make  short  work  in  passing  a  bill  of  pains 
and  penalties  rather  than  incur  that  misfortune.  (A  laugh.) 

I  was  however  doomed  to  be  disappointed.  My  first  impres 
sions  proved  erroneous.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  hear  what 
my  informants  denominated  their  "  cleverest"  men. 

The  rnotixm  pending  was  that  of  TOM  DUNCOMBE,  as  he  is 
familiarly  known — a  Radical,  and  a  genuine  trump,  besides  be 
ing  a  handsome,  black-eyed,  black-haired,  graceful  personage. 
Mr.  Duncombe  had  moved  that  the  first  clause  of  the  bill,  pun 
ishing  those  who  take  titles  under  the  Pope,  be  postponed  until 
the  House  should  be  in  possession  of  the  brief,  rescript,  or  letters 
apostolical,  upon  which  the  enacting  clause  was  founded ;  and 
he  proceeded  to  make  what  was  called  a  decided  hit,  between 
wind  and  water. 

He  poured  hot  shot  right  over  the  heads  and  into  the  eyes 
of  the  ministers  charging  them  with  deserting  the  principles  of 


THE  COMMONS.  55 

the  Emancipation  Act  of  1829,  and  denouncing  the  Preamble  to 
the  present  bill  compared  with  that  of  1829,  as  miserable,  wretch 
ed,  narrow-minded  and  pettifogging.  The  speech  was  directed 
to  the  subject  of  the  motion.  He  contended  that  mere  public 
notoriety,  or  "  common  clamor"  (to  use  the  Saxon)  was  not  the 
evidence  for  grave  legislation.  This  speech  called  out  the  legal 
advisers  of  the  government,  who  played  the  game  of  stave-off 
nicely.  The  Solicitor  General  is  a  tall,  white-headed,  good- 
natured  man,  of  imperfect  enunciation.  Indeed,  I  noticed  that 
very  few  of  the  speakers  failed  to  stutter  a  good  deal. — D'!SRA- 
ELI  was  a  perfect  stammerer  throughout.  What  he  said  was 
pointed,  but  his  manner  was  very  indifferent.  The  most  grace 
ful  elocution  was  that  of  Mr.  WALPOLE,  whose  finely  woven  words 
trilled  musically  upon  the  ear,  as  he  tendered  the  conservative 
force  to  the  government,  by  which  they  are  enabled  to  pass  their 
bill.  But  ROEBUCK  is  the  Slasher  of  the  Parliament.  He  does 
not  mince  matters  quite  so  much. — Every  other  member  has 
his  "  right  honorable  and  learned  friend  from  so-and-so,"  over 
twenty  times  in  a  ten  minutes'  speech.  Roebuck  cuts  to  the 
marrow  every  thrust.  His  under  lip  curls  over  in  scorn  ;  but  he 
met  more  than  his  match  in  the  tall,  gray-whiskered,  courtly, 
precise  and  business-like  Home  Secretary,  SIR  GEORGE  GREY. 
He  looked  to  me  the  ablest  man  in  the  Cabinet.  Lord  John 
Russell  made  a  short  and  very  pointed  speech,  displaying  both 
tact  and  good  nature.  He  always  comes  in  to  the  help  of  his 
adjutants  when  they  are  pushed  to  the  wall,  and  leads  them  off. 
The  Premier  of  England,  whom  I  had  a  good  opportunity  to  see, 
is  a  little 'man  with  a  high  forehead,  bright  eyes,  and  hair  some 
what  minus,  but  straggling  over  his  face.  He  sits  perfectly 
quiet,  with  his  countenance  under  deep  shadow,  so  that  it  is 
impossible  to  tell  whether  the  arrows  strike  home  or  not. 

Let  me  not  fail  to  commend  the  brevity  and  pith  of  the 
English  speakers.  Up  they  start  in  a  twinkling,  the  hat  coming 
off  simultaneously.  They  preamble  little,  but  shoot  right  at  the 
white ;  reserve  their  antithetic  brilliance  for  the  conclusion, 


56  THE  COMMONS. 

which  is  hardly  uttered,  before  the  hat  is  on  and  they  drop  !  If 
you  should  put  a  pistol  ball  through  the  heart,  you  could  not 
bring  them  down  quicker.  There  is  no  loud  bawling  in  speak 
ing,  save  among  the  Irish.  But  the  cheers,  cries  of  "  hear" 
and  at  times  the  perfect  Babelism  of  the  House,  is  as  comical  as 
it  is  novel  to  an  American.  Tittlebat  Titmouse,  when  he  imi 
tated  a  menagerie,  was  accounted,  for  that  purpose,  an  efficient 
M.  P.  I  can  now  understand  the  eloquence  of  Tittlebat's  zoologi 
cal  demonstration.  When  his  untimely  groan  caused  a  ministry, 
in  the  full  tide  of  power,  to  resign,  he  reached  an  eminence  of 
parliamentary  celebrity  wholly  unprecedented ;  because  no  one 
but  Tittlebat  could  ever  have  had  the  insensibility  necessary  to 
the  occasion.  But  the  clamor  is  soon  over.  The  member  either 
takes  advantage  of  the  cheers  and  interjections,  or  never  heeds 
them. 

The  Irish  members  seemed  anxious  to  find  out  if  government 
intended  to  put  the  Popery  bill  in  force  in  Ireland.  The  bill 
is  general,  and  includes  Ireland.  They  could  get  no  direct 
response;  although  Mr.  KEOGII,  a  witty  and  able  speaker, 
pressed  them  closely. 

During  the  debate  I  was  startled  by  a  cry  from  one  of  the 
wigs,  of  "  strangers,  withdraw  !"  Then,  just  as  we  were  about 
to  leave,  the  cry  was  "  order,"  and  the  first  command  withdrawn. 
Directly  on  finishing  the  debate  on  Duncombe's  motion,  the 
command  was  repeated.  We  all  went  into  a  lobby,  while  a 
division  of  the  House  was  called.  It  was  a  novel  procedure. 
As  it  was  explained  to  me,  the  members  all  march  out,  then 
march  in  ;  while  at  two  points  their  vote  is  registered.  This 
process  lasted  about  a  half  an  hour,  the  bell  in  the  mean  time 
ringing  in  absentees.  I  undertook  to  commend  our  plan  of 
taking  the  ayes  and  noes ;  but  I  believe  that  even  our  plan  has 
been  improved  by  a  Yankee. 

During  the  discussion  an  odd  procedure  took  place.  A  wig 
and  gown  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  House,  accompanied  by  a 
lawyer.  His  queue  trembled  with  conscious  importance,  as  it, 


THE  COMMONS.  57 

moved  up  the  aisle.  Out  jumped  from  a  large  chair,  a  little 
man  in  black  tights  with  a  big  sword  !  Pretty  soon,  down 
marched  an  officer  with  a  large  gilded  instrument : 

"  May  I  be  permitted  to  inquire,  sir,  if  that — that — stick 
yonder,  is — Cromwell's  bauble — the  mace  ?  " 

<:  You're  quite  right,  sir.  It's  the  bauble — ha  !  ha  !  You 
Americans  don't  pay  much  respect  to  such  legislative  symbols  !" 

The  man  with  the  mace  and  sword  marched  the  others  up 
to  the  Speaker,  who  mumbled  over  something.  It  was  doubt 
less  a  message  from  the  upper  house.  I  could  see  in  it,  though 
disguised,  the  original  of  our  own  modus  operandi.  The  "mace 
was  carefully  laid  out  of  sight,  and  I  much  edified. 

From  the  vote  given,  one  may  see  what  the  Parliament  of 
England  is  about.  For  some  months  past  they  have  debated, 
and  for  some  months  to  come  they  will  debate,  a  measure  of 
penalty,  which  a  new  rescript  of  the  Pope  may  avoid ;  and 
which,  when  enacted,  will  serve  as  an  excellent  mode  of  perse 
cuting  into  the  Catholic  Church  a  goodly  number  of  Her  Majes 
ty's  loyal  subjects.  It  sounded  strange  to  my  ears,  to  hear  the 
old  statutes  of  premunire,  and  other  obsolete  enactments  of  the 
time  of  Richard  II.,  quoted  in  this  English  Parliament  and  in 
this  nineteenth  century,  as  precedents  for  present  legislation 
against  Pio  NONO  PAPA  !  Titus  Gates  is  not  dead  yet.  The 
Premier  lately  declared  his  belief  in  a  Popish  plot  to  subvert 
the  liberties  of  the  people  ;  and  upon  this  belief,  and  a  harmless 
letter  making  Dr.  Wiseman  an  ecclesiastical  officer  of  an  English 
locality,  is  to  be  based  a  law  of  intolerance,  which  even  James 
II.  would  have  been  ashamed  to  sanction.  When  will  England 
learn  the  beautiful  truths  of  free  toleration  ?  When  will  she 
leave  accountability  in  spiritual  matters  to  GOD  alone  ?  When 
will  she  learn  the  significance  of  the  first  Amendment  to  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  in  its  application  to  human 
societies  of  divers  religions  and  sects :  "  Congress  shall  make 
no  law  respecting  an  establishment  of  religion,  or  prohibiting 
the  free  exercise  thereof." 


58  THE  COMMONS. 

But  we  would  not  judge  her  harshly  from  whom  we  have 
received  such  rich  legacies  of  political  wisdom.  Well  we  know 
that  the  ecclesiastical  polity  of  England  has  been  growing  for 
ages,  and  intertwisting  its  fibres  with  her  civil  polity.  To  pull 
it  down,  both  must  be  uptorn.  For  that  event  England  is  not 
yet  prepared.  Time  is  the  innovator  in  England.  With  a  Queen 
so  young  and  popular,  and  to  whom  we  may  almost  apply  the 
adulatory  poetry  of  Lord  COKE  (the  only  poetry  he  ever  com 
mitted,)  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  that,  as  the  "rose  is  the  queen 
among  flowers,  and  smelleth  more  sweetly  when  it  is  plucked 
from  the  branch,  so  I  may  say  and  justify,  that  she,  by  just 
desert,  is  the  queen  of  queens,  not  only  by  royal  descent,  but  by 
roseal  beauty  also," — with  such  a  Queen  the  loyal  spirit  of  Eng 
land  is  blindly  enamored.  The  disfranchised  and  tax-ridden 
millions,  and  the  poor,  who  also  number  by  millions,  must  still 
cry  to  Heaven  for  relief;  for  England's  hat  and  hurrah  will  go 
up  for  Victoria  so  long  as  she  wields  the  sceptre.  This  loyalty 
operates  to  stem  reform. 

Give  England  an  unpopular  head,  such  as  she  had  in  the 
time  of  JUNIUS,  and  Truth  and  Justice  will  no  longer  become 
hollow  words  to  "  make  earth  sick  and  Heaven  weary,"  and  reli 
gious  toleration  may  ingraft  some  of  our  own  features  upon  the 
Constitution  of  England. 


VI. 


tljB  Cqstel  mtft  in  fyt  $itrt 


"The  life  of  man  is  much  beholden  to  the  mechanical  Arts;  there  being  many  things  con 
ducing  to  the  ornament  of  religion,  to  ttie  grace  of  civil  discipline,  and  to  the  beautifying  of 
all  human  kind,  produced  out  of  their  treasures.  "  Bacon, 

4  FTER  the  rural  racing  jaunt  of  yesterday,  we  are  again  on  our 
.11-  way  to  the  Great  Exhibition.  We  pass  the  barracks,  around 
which  we  see  red-coats  keeping  sentinel.  On  the  walls  is  writ 
ten,  in  big  letters  of  chalk,  so  that  the  wayfaring  man,  th'ough  a 
fool,  can  read  ;  "  You  bloody  Saxons  ;"  and  directly  under  it  ; 
"  No  bloody  popery  !  "  Thus  do  the  chance  scribblings  of  the 
"  vulgar  "  show  the  effervescence  of  the  public  mind.  These  two 
signs  upon  the  house  of  Force  —  do  they  not  state  the  question 
which  was  debated  the  other  night  by  England's  best  minds  ? 
Write  that  debate  out,  and  boil  it  down,  and  it  is  still  "  bloody 
Saxon  "  and  "  bloody  Popery." 

We  should  be,  indeed,  culpable,  if  before  we  reach  the  pa 
lace,  we  failed  to  notice  the  elegant  gates  and  delightful  gardens 
which  adorn  Hyde  Park.  This  Park  is  360  acres,  or  more,  in 
area.  It  has  many  gates.  The  most  costly  and  beautiful  is  the 
principal  entrance.  It  cost  over  seventy  thousand  pounds  alone. 
It  is  of  the  most  exquisite  carving,  and  forms  a  fitting  portal  to 
so  spacious  and  inviting  a  spot.  Nearly  all  of  this  part  of  Lon 
don  has  been  built  within  ten  years.  Lofty  mansions,  cities  of 
squares,  crescents,  terraces,  noble  streets  and  avenues,  fine 
churches  and  great  gardens,  are  all  about  us.  Lots  of  land 
which,  in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  brought  $60  rent 
per  year,  now  bring  $60,000. 


60  UNDER  THE  CRYSTAL, 

But  the  Exhibition  opens.  We  enter  at  the  east  entrance, 
finding  the  United  States  at  work  fitting  up  its  department.  We 
trust  in  the  end  our  Union  will  make  a  fit  and  appropriate  show. 
The  Times,  in  speaking  of  our  meagre  collection,  makes -this  re 
mark  :  "  They  don't  l  whip  all  nature  hollow,'  but  they  have  sev 
eral  very  interesting  machines,  and  the  useful  character  of  their 
display  as  a  whole,  forms  a  really  striking  contrast  to  the  showy 
attributes  of  the  national  industries  developed  around  them." 
It  is  true.  There  is  not  so  much  to  catch  the  eye  by  the  gairish 
display  of  our  contribution.  While  crowds  surround  the  Queen 

of  Spain's  crown  and  bracelets,  with  their  jewelled  splendors 

while  the  Indian  elephant-saddles  have  their  hosts  about  them 
—while  the  French  silver  and  porcelain  tea-service,  wrought  into 
every  modification  of  beauty,  catch  the  sight — while  the  great 
English  carpet,  woven  by  the  fifty  loyal  ladies  of  London  for 
the  Q*een,  has  its  throng  of  admirers— while  the  Tunissian 
pack-saddles  and  brocade  costumes,  the  Milan  sculpture,  the 
Wurtemberg  stuffed  animals,  the  French  tapestry,  (oh  !  how 
magnificently  regal !)  each  and  all  are  cynosures  for  eager  gazers, 
our  American  collection  boasts  of  the  utile,  non  dulce. 

I  spoke  of  Hobbs,  the  lock  king,  in  a  former  chapter.  I  met 
him  to-day,  and  he  explained  his  lock,  which  is  on  exhibition. 
It  is  a  permutating  lock.  The  key  makes.the  lock.  The  mod 
ifications  which  may  be  made  in  it  are  only  1,307,654,358.000  ! 
It  would  take  a  person  more  than  a  Methuselah's  age  to  use 
these  mutations.  He  opened  the  lock  and  explained  its  intri 
cate  complexity.  It  is  a  wonder,  and  excites  attention  in  the 
United  States  department  only  next  to  the  Greek  Slave. 

Upon  this  day  we  began  to  visit  the  nations  in  the  east  end 
of  the  building,  skipping  Russia,  whose  articles  are  detained  by 
Baltic  ice,  and  commencing  with  the  German  states  under  the 
Zollverein.  A  fine  piece  of  statuary  representing  the  Bac 
chantes,  attracts  our  attention,  while,  as  if  firing  at  the  tipsy 
followers  of  the  vine-god,  is  pointed  a  splendid  gun,  glittering 
like  a  mirror.  Next  comes  an  exact  imitation  of  the  towers  of 


AND  IN  THE  PARK,  Q  1 

Heidelberg,  complete  to  the  smallest  rock.  We  have  a  model 
of  Niagara  Falls  here,  but  it  is  a  miserable  one,  affording  no  ade 
quate  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  fall.  It  is  spread  over  some 
miles,  consequently  the  cataract  looks  puny  enough. 

Prussia  has  one  of  the  most  entrancing  rooms  in  the  palace. 
It  is  lit  with  colored  glass,  all  figured  richly  with  recesses 
around,  wherein  is  arranged  statuary,  paintings,  and  porcelain 
frames.  We  noticed  a  chess-board,  costing  $15,000,  carved  out 
of  silver,  set  with  jewels,  and  each  knight,  king,  queen,  and 
bishop,  a  perfect  gem  of  carving  in  itself. 

Prince  Albert's  birth-place,  Rosenau  Castle,  in  Saxe  Coburg, 
had  its  model — a  most  bewitching  piece.  The  German  lasses 
were  waltzing  upon  the  green  sward,  while  a  German  holiday 
had  gathered  its  thousands  about  the  castle.  While  seeing  so 
many  fine  representations  of  scenery,  and  knowing  how  muni 
ficent  nature  has  spread  her  beauties  in  my  own  American  land? 
could  I  help  wishing  for  some  of  Cole's  landscapes  of  Hudson  or 
Susquehanna  scenery?  Could  I  help  wishing  for  a  faithful 
portrait  of  that  nature  which  Bryant,  in  a  sonnet  to  the  painter, 
reminds  him  before  going  to  Europe,  to  bear  uppermost  in  his 
mind : 

"  Lone  lakes,  savannas  where  the  bison  roves, 
Rocks  rich  with  summer  garlands,  solemn  streams : 
Skies  where  the  desert  eagle  wheels  and  screams, 
Spring  bloom  and  autumn  blaze  of  boundless  groves." 

Instead  of  these,  the  observer  meets  with  model  towers  and 
ruins,  churches,  and  opera  houses,  and  even  models  of  Swiss 
scenery.  How  we  longed  to  see  the  lofty  originals  of  the  latter. 

I  observed  in  a  large  glass  case,  a  magnificent  representa 
tion  of  Alpine  scenery,  wherein  at  a  glance  was  combined  every 
form  of  sublimity  and  terror,  of  loveliness  and  beauty.  The 
proximity  is  singular.  Upland  valleys  of  softest  verdure  repose 
sweetly  at  the  foot  of  the  eternal  glacier.  Huge  snowy  peaks, 
ready  for  an  avalanche,  frown  over  delicious  spots  of  pastoral 


£2  UNDER   THE  CRYSTAL, 

quietude,  while  horrid  gorges  yawn  with  silence  and  desolation, 
near  the  flowery  marge  of  meadows. 

Leipsic,  with  her  books,  Saxony,  with  her  wool,  and  long 
courts  of  velvets,  cloths,  and  satins,  must  lead  us  out  into  the 
nave  again.  Perhaps  in  the  multiplicity  of  German  infinity, 
you  may  notice  that  button  trophy,  with  21,300  varieties  glis 
tening  like  a  miniature  universe  under  the  clear  light- 

We  are  called  to  refreshments  by  the  whispers  of  the  tired 
body.  That  finished,  can  you  help  stopping  a  moment  to  look 
at  those  Indian  ivory  chairs,  that  couch  of  gold,  that  Eka,  or 
one-horse  chariot  ?  Shall  we  not  wonder  at  the  Sancsrit  liter 
ature  in  Persia — venture  within  that  Turkish  canopy  of  blue 
with  another  tent  within,  filled  with  its  long  hangings  of  silver 
laces  ? 

The  Mosaic  of  Italy,  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
things  in  the  Exhibition.  Large  centre-tables  are  thus  form 
ed,  with  landscapes  and  figures,  whose  perfection  shames  the 
pencil.  The  Coliseum,  Romulus  and  Remus,  the  Forum,  and 
other  classic  memories  and  scenes,  are  thus  preserved  in  undying 
freshness  of  beauty.  I  know  there  is  no  great  utility  in  these 
costly  Mosaics  ;  but  taking  this  branch  of  labor,  at  its  lowest 
value,  as  a  mere  source  of  pleasure  from  the  love  of  imitation 
or  representation  of  agreeable  objects,  it  nevertheless  becomes 
the  remembrancer  of  scenes  of  thrilling  interest.  It  is  the  ele 
gant  accomplishment,  by  which  homes  are  embellished.  It  en 
ters  into  the  sisterhood  of  arts,  bound  by  a  common  bond — the 
culture  of  the  human,  through  the  influence  of  the  divine,  which 
ever  dwelleth  in  the  pure,  the  fair,  and  the  beautiful ! 

What  object  is  that  upon  the  point  yonder,  which  requires 
a  glass  to  perceive  it  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  Can  it  be  ?  A  cherry-stone 
with  twenty-five  portraits  on  one  side,  and  St.  George  fighting 
the  dragon,  sculptured  on  the  other  !  "  'Tis  sure  as  any  thing 
most  true."  Look  for  yourself !  Italy  has  at  least  the  palm 
in  microscopic  beauty,  although  yon  Herculean  Godfrey,  from 
Brussels,  in  the  nave,  bears  away  the  guerdon  for  muscular 
might ! 


AND  IN  THE  PARK.  63 

We  might  fill  pages  thus  depicting  each  object — which  in 
itself  perhaps  was  a  study  of  years  for  the  artist — but  to  which 
we  do  not  give  as  many  minutes.  Passing  by  the  statuary  of 
Hero  and  Leander,  which  the  mournful  music  from  the  gallery 
seems  to  render  more  sad,  we  enter  the  French  tapestry  room. 
There  is  the  French  trophy  !  That  'hanging,  so  dazzling  in 
color,  so  striking  in  design,  at  which  the  eye  blenches — cost 
twenty-six  men  eight  years'  labor.  That  is  an  object  for  an 
industrious  exhibition  !  It  is  of  course  from  Gobelins. 

France  is  not  alone  la  belle  France.  The  finest  collection 
of  philosophical  and  surgical  instruments  are  hers.  False  legs 
and  arms,  and  every  aid  to  injured  humanity  is  hers.  Not  alone 
does  she  excel  in  Lyons  silks  and  laces,  but  in  kitchen  ranges 
and  physical  sciences.  Like  her  character  is  her  exhibition  of 
industry.  Confectionaries  of  rarest  temptation  sweeten  near 
"  drums,  guns,  trumpets,  blunderbusses,  and  thunder."  Steam 
engines  revolve  in  beauty,  whose  polish  almost  emulates  that  of 
her  dazzling  mirrors  !  Wigs,  in  profusion,  are  within  hearing 
distance  of  harps,  fiddles,  flutes,  and  pianos.  A  very  medley  is 
France,  a  serious  comedy,  a  laughing  tragedy. 

We  have  done  for  to-day ;  yet  much  of  the  Eastern  entrance 
and  galleries  are  not  glanced  at.  We  go  away  stunned,  as  be 
fore,  at  the  immensity  of  this  exposition  of  toil.  Truly  the 
dwarf  man,  "  behind  his  engine  of  steam,  can  remove  mountains." 
What  a  mine  of  meaning  is  there  in  the  remarks  of  Lord  Bacon, 
which  we  have  prefixed  to  this  chapter ;  yet  even  his  compre 
hension,  which  almost  became  prophecy,  could  not  grasp  such  a 
stupendous  illustration  of  their  truth  as  is  here  enshrined.  What 
an  ingathering  of  the  world's  daily  experience  is  here  !  Even  so 
feeble  a  sketch  as  this  will  enable  the  intelligent  reader  to  form 
some  idea  of  the  wondrous  world  we  live  in. 

Again,  we  visit  the  home  of  industry.  It  is  Saturday,  ard 
ingress  cannot  be  had  until  noon,  by  which  time  a  great  con 
course  has  collected.  A  rush  is  made,  during  which  examples 
of  English  rudeness,  especially  toward  the  gentler  sex,  is  so 


64  UNDER  THE  CRYSTAL, 

common,  as  to  excite  the  remark  and  contempt  of  every  well- 
bred  stranger. 

The  palace  is  filled  at  once,  as  if  from  a  hundred  sluices, 
with  all  kinds  of  people.  Invalids,  even,  in  their  conveyances, 
are  drawn  through  the  courts.  Painters  and  drawers  are  perched 
here  and  there,  copying  the  articles  and  scenes.  Policemen  are 
taking  their  stations.  Red  coats  are  brushing  off  the  dust  from 
the  articles.  Paxton  was  at  a  loss  for  a  cleaner  to  the  building, 
and  invented,  at  great  expense  of  time  and  money,  a  hundred- 
housemaid-power-broom  for -  the  purpose.  He  found,  after  the 
first  day's  experience,  that  the  long  sweeping  trains  of  the  ladies 
performed  the  office  to  a  nicety. 

I  began  to-day  with  France,  on  the  southern  side.  Amid 
the  jewelry,  which  shone  as  "  from  a  sky,"  we  discerned  some 
clocks,  fashioned  curiously  out  of  trees,  in  the  branches  of  which 
chirped,  fluttered,  and  leaped  from  bough  to  bough  a  choir  of 
*  birds.  There  were  some  pecking  at  beetles,  others  in  the  nest, 
but  all  pervaded  by  a  vivacity  which,  at  first  glance,  made  the 
illusion  perfect. 

Here,  too,  we  saw  the  rarest  fruit-piece  of  porcelain  painting 
which  ever  delighted  the  vision.  The  grapes  and  other  luscious 
fruitage  hung  from  a  golden  frame-work,  while  tulips  and  gar 
lands  of  every  flower  seemed  to  hide  an  angel,  of  form  so  ethe 
real,  and  with  shading  so  softened,  and  light  so  mellowed,  as  to 
enthral  the  fancy.  Tapestry  overhung  all.  Further  down,  and 
into  the  nave,  is  a  fine  piece  of  statuary,  representing  Love  sciz- 
zoring  off  the  claws  of  a  lion;  allegorizing  the  French  sentiment: 

Amour,  Amour  quand  tu  nous  tien, 
On  pent  bien  dire — Adieu  Prudence. 

Silver  service,  pictures  raised,  and  interminable  vistas  of  dry 
goods,  we  fly  from,  to  find  refuge  in  the  arms  of  Belgium,  which 
are  spread  just  above  the  next  department.  Here  are  chimney 
pieces,  with  carvings  exquisite.  Nests  of  little  Cupids  and 
flower  bas-reliefs  surround  us.  On  move  we  with  the  crowd. 


AND  IN  THE  PARK.  (55 

until  the  Austrian  statuary  room  receives  us.  What  a  sweet 
piece  is  that  nun,  veiled  with  marble,  and  in  very  truth  realizing 
"Wordsworth's  line, 

breathless  iu  adoration. 

The  effect  of  a  veil  of  marble,  dimly  showing  the  beautiful  cast 
of  countenance,  is  indeed  a  triumph  of  the  chisel.  . 

The  machinery  department  has  been  slighted,  My  foolish 
eye  has  been  caught  by  gauds,  as  "  larks  by  looking-glasses." 
Imagine  a  vast  vista  of  convolving,  revolving,  intertwisting,  gy 
rating,  perpendicularizing,  horizoritalizing,  and  whirlygigging 
generally  ;  yet  all  playing  as  silently  as  polished  steel,  well 
oiled,  can  go,  and  as  gracefully  as  the  stir 

"Of  a  swan's  neck  among  the  bushes;" 

and  you  have  a  glance  at  the  engine-room  with  its  contents. 
Here*  on  our  right  is  a  new  locomotive  runnning  by  atmosphere  ; 
there  is,  also,  an  improved  "  feather"  paddle-wheel,  with  two 
shafts,  one  within  the  other,  the  inner  one  a  screw ;  the  set  of 
paddles,  as  they  rise  out  of  the  water,  turning  so  as  to  find  no 
resistance,  and  presenting  their  edge  to  the  air.  Miniature  en 
gines  of  every  form,  are  in  motion,,  and  the  machinery  so  bright 
as  to  reflect,  in  itself,  its  own  motion.  A  steam  engine  with  a 
moveable  cylinder  seemed  a  singular  piece  of  adaptedness  of 
means  to  end.  Needle  machines  were  at  work,  washing  and  dry 
ing  machines,  hydraulic  pumps,  machines  for  dressing  stone,  (from 
Bosting !)  diving-bells,  already  in  the  bottom  of  the  mock  sea, 
and,  last,  printing-machines  of  many  kinds,  all  in  operation. 
The  "Illustrated  News"  is  struck  off  at  the  rate  of  over  5,000  to 
the  hour.  From  four  points  the  paper  issues.  The  exhibition 
is  thus  rapidly  illustrating  itself  to  the  wide  world.  But  to  my 
unpractised  eye,  the  looms  and  mules  and  tne  other  machiiier 
for  weaving,  are  the  most  wonderful.  Large  laces  and  splendid 
table-linen,  costly  cloths  and  cheap  cottons,  alike  come  forth 
from  the  swift-flying  shuttle,  amid  a  maze  of  rotation,  driving 


66  UNDER  THE  CRYSTAL. 

i 

and  springing,  the  machinery  performing  every  motion  and 
intricacy  from  which  power  is  evolved  and  comforts  multiplied. 
This,  amid  the  roar  of  water-falls,  the  buzz  and  hum,  the  click 
and  clatter,  the  throbbing,  glittering  and  dancing  of  wheels,  is  all 
dependent  upon  steam  power,  which  is  hidden  from  the  eye.  Is 
there  not  here  a  magic  beside  which  Aladdin  was  a  dunce,  and 
the  old  enchanter,  Merlin,  a  booby  ?  Hurrah  !  for  the  age  of 
steam  wonder  !  Pyramids  and  Pantheons,  Gothic  buildings  and 
Babylon  gates,  should  sink  into  oblivion  beside  this  steam-cen 
tury,  with  its  palace  of  Industry. 

The  west  end,  in  the  gallery,  to  which,  with  the  help  of 
fancy,  you  are  transported,  is  now  filled  with  prisms  flung 
by  the  colored  glass  between  you  and  the  setting  sun.  You 
have  passed  royal  couches,  with  Aurora  and  Somnus  carved  and 
painted,  all  golden  and  glittering.  You  have  passed  intricate 
mazes  of  food,  seeds,  woods,  and  fabrics,  from  Scotland  and  other 
parts  of  Great  Britain.  You  glance  at  the  naval  glory  of  Britain, 
represented  by  her  innumerable  models,  with  the  Battle  of  Tra 
falgar  to  top  the  group.  You  observe  that  centrifugal  machine, 
illustrating  the  planetary  motions  completely.  At  last,  relieved, 
you  stand  upon  the  threshold  of — start  not !  ^  is  only  the 
organ,  near  which  you  are  Unconsciously  standing.  It  strikes 
up,  with  four  men  to  blow,  and  three  to  play.  As  I  am  a  living 
soul,  its  thundering  sound  made  the — yes,  believe  it,  Rochester- 
knocking  credulity — it  made  the  UNIVERSE  tremble  ! !  I  have 
told  some  things  which  unsophisticated  Buckeyes  rarely  see, 
and  can  hardly  imagine  ;  but  I  was  not  under  oath  then.  Now 
I  am.  I  distinctly  swear  that  I  saw  Jupiter  quake  amid  his 
satellites,  Venus  tremble  in  her  sandals,  and  Mars  in  his  boots, 
Saturn  shake  in  his  ring,  and  the  Sun  itself  start  from  his  sphere, 

as  the  flood  of  sound  rolled  out  of  the  organ  and  upon  the 

orrery  ! 

While  observing  this  phenomenon,  which  Herschel  must 
explain,  the  organist  struck  up  Yankee  Doodle !  My  heart  beat 
hot  and  queer.  I  felt  the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  a 


AND  7iV  THE  PARK.  67 

couple  of  Bunker  Hills  rising  in  my  bosom.  As  such  feelings 
were  inconsistent  with  this  temple,  dedicated  to  peace,  and  as  I 
was  a  delegate  from  Ohio  to  the  World's  Peace  Convention,  I 
prudently  retired  out  of  the  British  domain  and  seated  myself 
again  at  the  transept,  to  take  a  last  look  before  going  to  the 
Continent. 

At  the  four  corners  there  are  crowds,  looking  down  on 
throngs  beneath,  moving  in  and  out  under  canopies,  and  into  the 
courts.  Opposite  is  a  large  glass  chandelier,  almost  the  coun 
terpart  of  the  fountain,  which,  with  its  sisters  three,  are  making 
melody  by  graceful  water  jets  amid  the  palm  and  flower  groves 
below.  The  sight  woos  the  thirst,  and  the  hum  almost  sinks 
one  in  a  "  swound,"  like  a  murmur  of  bees.  White  as  ghosts, 
the  long  lines  of  statuary  guard  the  little  apartments,  with  varied 
hangings  suspended  from  their  roofs.  Away  down  on  either 
hand  is  seen  one  living  stream  moving  amid  gorgeousness,  and 
under  glancing  sunlight. 

How  many  hearts  beat  within  those  vital  frames,  the  mechan 
ism  of  which,  comparable  with  nothing  in  this  vast  theatre  of 
ingenuity,  is  hidden  from  the  eye  !  How  many  immortal  souls 
are  here  intent  on  seeing — seeing — seeing ;  forgetful  of  every 
thought  as  to  the  wondrous  mind-mechanism  which  evolved  all 
these  wonders.  "  Ye  fools  and  blind  !  for  whether  is  greater, 
the  gold,  or  the  temple  which  sanctifieth  the  gold  ?"  The  gold 
must  perish,  the  temple  and  its  spirit  survives. 

Wrap  those  moving  bodies  in  the  silks  of  yon  pagoda  ;  or 
bury  them  amid  the  glitter  of  those  Indian  gold  cloths,  but  they 
will  not  stay.  Those  flowers  may  be  renewed  by  the  genial 
breath  of  spring ;  those  bodies,  of  form  so  radiant,  must  lie  in 
"  cold  obstruction."  Surround  their  tombs  with  the  bronze  and 
stone  which  line  the  nave ;  their  memory  is  soon  erased  by  the 
footstep  of  time.  Yet  this  undying  mind  is  perpetual.  It  lives 
through  its  creations.  Nation  to  nation,  man  to  man,  hands 
down  the  results  of  the  vigilant  life.  Who  can  tell  what 
thoughts  have  been  here  developed  to  bless  the  race  ?  What 


68  UNDER   THE  CRYSTAL, 

, 

ideas  of  beauty  suggested,  what  cordialities  cultivated  to  deco 
rate  this  world  of  tears  ? 

Behold  below,  a  world's   representatives  interlacing  them 
selves.     As  Shakspeare  has  it : 

"  No  man  living 


Can  say  this  is  my  wife,  there ;  all  are  woven 
So  strangely  in  one  piece." 

Listen  to  the  hum  of  speech ;  look  to  the  produce  of  thought. 
Hear  ye  not  therein  the  shuttle  of  kindness  flying  from  heart  to 
heart,  weaving  its  viewless  warp  and  woof  into  one  sublime  fab 
ric,  many-hued  as  that  tapestry,  intricate  as  that  mechanism  ;  a 
fabric  fit  to  be  hung  from  the  battlements  of  heaven,  between 
the  sins  of  man  and  the  majesty  of  God  ! 

The  sun  is  sinking  toward  America.  Its  slanting  radiance 
kisses  the  concave  crystal.  The  statues  in  the  transept  fling 
long  shadows  down  the  nave.  The  thousand  glitters  of  the  glass 
are  reflected  from  jewels  and  glass  within.  What  if  all  the  minds 
here  represented  by  their  results  were  gathered  into  a  common 
mental  palace,  so  transparent  that  the  most  profound  thought  of 
each  and  all  could  be  perceived ;  the  astronomer  sweeping  the 
sky  with  that  telescope,  down  to  the  humble  African  who  made 
yon  miserable  human  image  ;  the  genius  of  the  sculptor  bodying 
forth  his  exquisite  ideal  in  stainless  Parian,  embracing  the  tiny 
thoughtlet  of  him  who  mechanically  turns  a  machine  which 
thinks  for  him  ;  could  we  not  then  approximate  toward  the  idea 
of  an  Omniscient  Reason,  in  the  largest  sense  of  that  term  ?  Yet 
these — all  these — are  the  varied  product  of  His  hand,  modified 
through  the  contaminated  reason  of  man  ! 

With  such  reflections  half  saddening  the  spirit,  and  with  a 
curiosity  to  see  the  delightful  environment  of  Hyde  Park  which 
surrounds  the  palace,  I  am  led  to  the  open  air,  to  be  freshened 
into  new  life  by  the  side  of  a  river  of  beauty — the  Serpentine, 
set  in  emerald.  A  massive  stone  bridge  arches  it,  over  which 
are  passing  crowds  from  the  exhibition,  horsemen  practising  in 


AMD  IN  THE  PARK.  69 

the  park,  and  coaches  drawn  by  blooded  horses.  Soldiers  and 
policemen  are  around  here,  as  they  are  everywhere  in  London. 
Before  us  spreads  the  stream,  with  its  water-fowl,  ducks  and 
swans.  Sharp-pointed  boats  dart  from  under  the  bridge,  and 
skim  away  as  gracefully  as  the  water-fowl  themselves.  A  few 
sail  boats  shoot  in  and  out,  as  if  playing  amid  the  splendid  elms 
which  line  the  stream,  and  which  in  clumps  all  through  this  park 
throw  their  shadows  deep  and  inviting.  Walks  are  distributed 
about  in  negligent  precision.  Boys  with  water  spaniels  and 
mimic  ships  are  laughing  away  merry  May  hours  in  their  pas 
times.  But  these  elms,  how  perfect  each  one  appears  !  It  is 
remarkable  to  one  used  to  seeing  nature  in  her  unpruned,  care 
less  dress,  how  much  like  leafy  architecture  a  noble  tree  may  be 
made. 

A  perfect  study  for  the  Painter  is  each  old  elm,  its  long 
branches  intertwisted  neatly  and  gracefully;  its  shadows  and 
lights  conspicuous  as  those  in  a  Gothic  Minster ;  bending  over 
to  its  sustaining  mother,  the  earth,  with  a  freight  of  foliage,  and 
bestowing  upon  her  verdurous  bosom  a  rich  gift  of  shade. 

Far  off,  before  me,  yet  clear  as  if  in  reach,  stands  the  Duke 
Wellington  in  bronze,  upon  his  lofty  steed  against  the  blue  sky. 
Here  come  some  of  his  class — a  troop  of  soldiers  in  hats  nearly 
as  big  as  themselves.  The  lofty  towers  of  Apsley  House,  the 
Duke's  residence,  are  about  his  monument.  Let  the  eye  skim 
around  to  the  right,  until  it  meets  between  the  trees  the  glit 
tering  palace,  full  of  its  throbbing  life  and  myriad  illustrations 
of  life-results.  At  least  tenscore  of  flags — white,  blue,  red  and 
variegated,  waver  to  the  mild  wind ;  while  the  transept  at  both 
ends  is  surmounted  proudly  with  England's  ensign  100  feet 
above  the  concave  !  The  colors  of  the  iron  work  are  but  dimly 
seen  from  here,  yet  most  gratefully  do  they  task  the  eye.  The 
Park  is  speckled  for  miles  with  gayly-dressed  women  and  sol 
diers. — Sheep,  too,  lazily  lie  about  the  lawns.  Just  behind  yon 
trees,  shut  in  by  a  gate  guarded  by  soldiers,  are  at  least  count, 
500  carriages  and  their  liveried  attendants,  awaiting  the  pleasure 


7n  UNDER   THE  CRYSTAL. 

'" 

of  their  masters  and  mistresses.—"  Thank  God,"  I  mentally 
ejaculated,  ;'  I  am  no  man's  man."  Could  we  not  put  these 
tight-legged,  gold-tipped,  hat-laced,  powder-headed,  bow-scraping, 
velvet-pawed  footmen  and  drivers  to  a  better  account  in  Ohio  ? 
Make  men  out  of  them,  albeit  apparent  manikins  now  ?  They 
do  not  know  any  better.  If  they  could  only  feel  what  it  is  to  have 
a  free  heart  beating  beneath  the  meanest  vesture — but  Pshaw  ! 
Velvet  Paw  must  needs  be  Velvet  Paw ;  else  England's  aris 
tocracy  would  have  to  wait  on  itself,  a  degradation  which  would 
knock  the  underpinning  out  of  one  branch  of  the  Constitution, 
and  perhaps  out  of  another.  Look  from  the  ignoble  growth  of 
men,  to  the  noble  growth  of  those  old  knotty,  shaggy,  twisted, 

Elms Centuries  of  storms  they  have  stood.     They  have  been 

like  true  men,  gnarled  into  greatness  ! 

But  we  must  be  going  homeward.  Having  bid  farewell 
to  this  glorious  Park,  those  graceful  swans,  whom  I  have  just 
called  to  the  bank  and  fed ;  to  the  Crystal  Palace,  in  which 
a  whole  education  has  been  mine,  I  strike  for  Victoria  gate, 
thence  through  Sussex  to  Hampstead  road.  The  scenes,  how 
ever,  in  this  English  Park  must  remain  written  here  forever. 
Our  only  drawback  is  that  no  more  of  our  friends  are  along, 
to  see  the  same  beauties  and  enjoy  the  same  delights  which  we 
have,  in  this  Park.  Would  that  my  descriptions  could  convey 
one  tenth  of  the  satisfaction  to  my  readers  which  I  have  felt 
within  its  bound. 


VII. 

riA  Dnttft 


"  Traveller ! 


Kemember  these  our  famous  -countrymen, 
And  quell  all  angry  and  injurious  thoughts." 

Southey. 

are  two  spots  to  be  visited  before  leaving  England, 
-L  that  deserve  especial  mention.  They  have  often  been  de 
scribed  ;  but  every  traveller  observes  them  under  peculiar  cir 
cumstances.  Westminster  Abbey  and  Dover  Heights — classic 
in  association ;  do  they  not  thrill  to  the  inmost  heart  ? 

On  Sabbath  we  went  to  Church  in  Westminster.  It  was  a 
rare  moment  when  we  passed  beneath  that  crumbling  arch, 
and  entered  that  venerable  pile.  Black  and  streaked  with  age  ; 
with  the  tracery  and  sculpture  corroded  by  time  ;  the  very 
image  of  venerableness  and  awe,  Westminster  Abbey  stands 
confessedly  before  the  eye.  the  selectest  spot  of  interest  upon 
English  ground.  We  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  consecrated 
fabric. — aisle  opening  within  aisle,  niches  around,  and  the  sculp 
tured  forms  erected  near  the  tombs  of  the  buried  great,  lifelike, 
standing  and  reposing  about  us,  and  all  richly  painted  with  a 
dim  and  mellow  lustre  from  the  lofty  circular  window  before  us. 
The  Abbey  within  is  in  the  shape  of  a  cross.  From  one  branch 
came  the  organ  tones  and  the  singing,  responsive  to  the  service 
at  the  opposite  end.  All  around  were  seen  the  trophies  and 
arms,  the  scrolls  and  images,  with  their  Hebrew,  Latin,  and 
English  inscriptions. 

We  were  compelled  to  stand  during  service.    However  much 
I  wanted  to  hear  a  specimen  of  English  preaching,  yet  I  could 


72  WESTMINSTER  AND  DOVER. 

not  tear  my  eyes  from  the  inscriptions  around.  We  stood  near 
the  poets'  corner.  I  turned  about,  and  the  first  name  I  saw  was 
GARRICK.  There  he  stood,  the  English  Roscius — parting  the 
marble  tapestry,  revealing  the  bust  of  Shakspeare ;  while  below 
him  are  female  figures,  one  of  Comedy,  fitting  on  the  sock ;  the 
other  of  Tragedy,  with  dishevelled  hair.  It  was  a  fine  piece  of 
sculpture  ;  but  it  could  not  detain  the  eye  long.  Next  I  saw 
the  name  of  CAMDEN  ;  then  Sir  GEOFFREY  KNELLER  ;  then  the 
monument  of  MAJOR  ANDRE  ;  then  that  erected  by  Massachu 
setts  Colony  to  GENERAL  HOWE.  From  my  position,  I  could  not 
see  much  of  the  poets'  corner,  although  standing  near.  But  whose 
monuments  are  those,  heavy  with  dust,  their  images  in  repose, 
apart  from  the  ordinary  tombs  of  knights  and  abbots  ?  These 
are  the  royal  line  of  England. 

Service  over,  which  was  performed  by  a  large,  hearty  minis 
ter,  who  apparently  enjoyed  a  fat  living,  and  who  preached  about 
making  self-sacrifices  and  cross-bearing — we  leave.  We  are 
permitted  to  pass  out  along  the  damp,  cold  tombs,  beneath  and 
around  us.  Here  lie  abbots  buried  in  the  tenth  and  eleventh 
centuries.  The  statue  of  Charles  James  Fox  reposing,  with 
certain  forms  about  him,  is  conspicuous.  These  forms  are  in 
tended  to  be  emblematic  of  his  services  in  the  cause  of  negro 
emancipation.  They  represent  negroes,  with  all  the  appurte 
nances  of  curly  hair,  flat  nose,  large  lips  and  low  brows ;  but 
they  are  in  white  marble  !  They  kneel  at  the  feet  of  Fox,  rais 
ing  the  whites  of  their  eyes  (done  to  the  life)  in  thankfulness  to 
their  benefactor.  The  taste,  thus  developed,  is  questionable. 
Indeed,  it  almost  confirmed  an  idea  long  pondered,  that  the 
province  of  the  chisel  lies  exclusively  in  the  Ideal  realm.  The 
pure  forms  of  the  stainless  marble  seem  to  require  a  spirituality, 
such  as  speaks  from  the  lip,  and  in  the  mien  of  the  Apollo 
Belvidere,  or  such  as  dwells  in  the  gentle  melancholy  of  the 
Greek  Slave. 

The  panting  heart  left  the  immense  repertory  of  the  glorious 
dead,  thrilled  to  its  minutest  fibre.     The  long  corridors  open 


WESTMINSTER  AND  DOVK1;. 


73 


before  the  eye.  displaying  monuments  that  defy  the  tooth  of 
Time,  but  in  vain.  Every  where  you  see  its  crumbling,  corrfc- 
ing  power.  The  very  birds,  as  if  in  mockery  of  man,  have  built 
nests  in  the  streaked  and  dark  walls,  and  sing  amid  decay. 

When  we  return  to  England,  Westminster  shall  be  again 
visited  and  fully  described.  Our  route  is  now  directly  for  Paris, 
by  way  of  Dover.  Let  the  traveller  remember  to  arrange  his 
time  of  leaving  London,  so  as  to  come  down  to  Dover  by  day,  • 
and  remain  some  hours  before  the  boat  departs  for  Calais,  if  he 
would  fix  in  everlasting  freshness  the  incidents  of  "  Lear,"  of 
which  the  white,  tall  cliffs  of  Dover  formed  so  prominent  a  part 
of  the  tempestuous  scene. 

Before  we  were  ready  for  it,  our  cars  dashed  into  the  bowels 
of  Shakspeare's  Cliff,  and,  after  rumbling  awhile,  darted  out 
again  into  the  sweet  May-shine.  Behold !  the  sea  speckled  with 
vessels,  and  the  dim  whiteness  of  the  French  coast  in  the  dis 
tance.  Again  we  turn  ;  and  now  that  we  are  shut  out  from  that 
fine  view,  let  us  look  upward.  There  indeed  is  the  glory  of 
Kent,  the  place  where  good  old  G-lostcr  is  alleged  to  have  stood. 
Although  we  cannot  stop  our  swift  rushing  car  to  say,  "  Here's 
the  place,  stand  still ! "  yet  we  can  truly  realize  Shakspeare's 
description  of  the  fearful,  dizzy  height ;  so  high  that  the  crows 
showed  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles,  and  the  sapphire-gatherer 
seemed  no  bigger  than  his  head.  We  saw  persons  on  the  cliff's 
fearful  edge  (how  fearful  to  poor,  blind  Grloster  !)  whose  Lillipu 
tian  size  brought  back  the  poet's  description  most  vividly. 

Under  the  direction  of  our  host  of  the  "  Gun,"  we  travers 
ed  the  ground  where  poor  Tom  was  "  a-cold,"  and  where  Cor 
delia  redeemed  the  woman-nature  of  the  olden  British  time. 

Dover  lies  under  the  frown  of  the  blanched  cliffs  in  a  semi 
circular  form  :  her  bay  surrounded  with  boats,  and  the  beach  lined 
with  bathing  wagons.  The  town  is  not  large,  but  looks  neat. 
Long  paved  walks,  made  of  a  composition  of  coal,  tar  and  sand, 
(quite  an  idea  !)  are  in  front  of  the  beach,  along  which  seats 
are  ranged.  The  shore  is  yet  faithful  to  the  description  of  ' 
4 


74  WESTMINSTER  AND  DOVER. 

Shakspeare  ;  for  I  wandered  along  it,  to  verify  that  the  '•  mur- 
dhiring  surge  on  the  unnumbered  idle  pebbles  beats."  And  as 
the  surge  rolls  up  its  tribute  of  water  and  thunder,  and  recedes, 
the  tiny  multitudinous  pebbles  rattle  away  most  distinctly  and 
musically.  It  could  not  "  be  heard  so  high "  as  old  Gloster 
stood. 

We  went  upon  the  cliff,  between  Dover  Castle  and  Shak- 
speare's  cliff,  by  a  tunnel  and  stairway.  There  are  three  stair 
ways  leading  up  to  the  fort  on  this  hill,  which  could  empty  a 
goodly  number  of  men  in  case  of  invasion.  Indeed,  Dover 
is  perfectly  prepared  for  that  event.  The  Castle  is  the  highest 
point,  and  within  the  bosom  of  that  cliff,  are  trap-doors,  stair 
ways,  and  divers  other  arrangements  to  decoy  an  enemy  in,  then 
topple  it  over,  or  stifle  it  with  poison.  The  face  of  this  cliff 
looks  like  a  great  prison  ;  its  huge  towers  rising  in  the  upper 
air,  and  its  iron-bound  windows  in  harsh  contrast  with  the  white 
beauty  of  the  surface,  which  white  beauty,  is  not  unadorned 
with  yellow  and  white  flowers,  as  well  as  with  green  foli 
age.  Little  houses  hang  upon  its  sides  like  nests ;  and  talk 
ing  of  nests  reminds  me  of  the  birds.  If  there  were  no  other 
feature  in  the  scenery  of  England  than  these  feathered  carollers, 
it  would  entitle  her  to  the  appellation  of  ''merry  England." 
Where  do  they  not  sing?  In  the  green  lanes  towards  Epsom, 
in  the  depots  of  the  Liverpool  railway,  in  old  Cathedral  towers, 
in  the  Crystal  Palace  ;  all 

"  O'er  royal  London,  in  luxuriant  May, 
With  lamps  yet  twinkling," 

they  sing  their  matin ;  and  here  at  our  departing  point,  high 
aloof  upon  the  Castle  cliff,  ring  their  merry  twitterings,  without 
the  fear  of  big  fort-cannon  and  gruff  soldiers  before  their  eyes. 
The  top  of  the  cliff  is  a  green  plot  finely  laid  out ;  but  the 
fortifications  lie  higher.  We  ascended  only  to  meet  the  chal 
lenge  of  a  soldier  to  "  stand"  which  we  laughingly  did.  "  You 
'must  obtain  a  pass."  "  But,  my  good  sir,  we  are  strangers." 


WESTMINSTER  ANti  DO  VER.  75 

"  Must  obey  orders,  sir."  "  Is  your  gun  loaded  ?"  "  No,  sir." 
"  Then  I  think  we  may  say  what  we  please  and  scale  the  ram 
parts."  He  turned  out  to  be  a  good-natured  fellow,  and  obeyed 
orders  like  a  machine,  as  all  good  soldiers  are.  We  therefore 
lost  the  best  view.  After  gazing  off  towards  the  home  of 
Fenelon,  Rousseau  and  Chauteaubriand,  and  trying  to  conjure 
up  Shakspeare  amidst  the  old  cliffs,  albeit  inhabited  by  unpo- 
etical  locomotives,  we  departed. 

Dover  is  a  point,  in  travel,  to  hang  many  a  wild  wonder 
upon.  But,  most,  it  is  the  point  upon  which  hinges  the  great 
est  tragedy  of  the  greatest  Dramatist.  Here  the  foulest  in- 
grates  that  ever  fleshed  their  teeth  in  the  heart  of  paternal 
kindness,  received  an  embodiment ;  and  here,  Cordelia,  the 
brightest  spirit  that  ever  shone  in  upon  the  dark  depths  of 
Despair,  received  a  local  habitation  and  a  name.  Thank  Eng 
land's  muse  for  linking  such  lessons  with  such  localities  ! 

You  may  be  sure,  that  the  enjoyment  of  travelling  has 
begun,  when  we  can  take  to  our  feet,  and  ramble  amidst  these 
grassy  mounds  covered  with  May  flowers,  and  look  out  into  the 
straits,  and  even  catch  in  the  sun's  glancing,  the  white  coast  of 
France  ;  when  we  can  feel  the  fresh  air  blowing  high  and  aloof 
from  the  city's  dust  and  smoke ;  when  we  can  find  in  the  local 
ities  around,  something  which  speaks  of  literary  association 
and  the  olden  time. 

The  ride  down  was  of  a  piece  with  all  of  the  other  travel 
ling  into  the  English  country — a  rural  prospect  of  rare  beauty 
from  Surrey  to  Dover.  Tunbridge  furnished  a  fine  old  ivied 
tower.  Another  loomed  up  near  Dover — strange  old  mile 
stones  down  the  road  of  time. 

The  hour  is  rung,  and  our  little  boat  made  "  the  fire  fly"  in 
phosphorescent  sparkles  out  of  the  straits.  From  certain  recol 
lections  of  salt  water,  I  kept  very  mouse-like,  until  our  vessel 
was  moored  between  the  long  line  of  piles  at  Calais. 


VIII. 

ftmt. — In  45titrt|  ntft  an 

% 

"  Battle  her  chains 

More  musically  now  than  when  the  hand 
Of  Brissot  forged  her  fetters,  or  the  crew 
Of  Herbert  thundered  out  their  blasphemies, 
Or  Danton  talked  of  virtue  ? " 

Coleridge. 

TT  was  a  moonlit  midnight  of  the  latter  part  of  May,  that 
A  found  us  landing  at  the  pile-driven  harbor  of  Calais.  "We 
walked  into  the  Custom  House  of  France,  between  cloaked  and 
curly  grey-whiskered  and  mustachioed  old  soldiers,  and  amidst 
cries  from  baggage-men,  of  "  prenez  garde,  Monsieur  !"  Well, 
the  officer  having  examined  my  passports,  and  hastily  inquired 
after  my  family  (very  kind  of  him),  most  of  whom  (to  wit,  my 
wife)  were  named  in  the  passport,  he  signified,  by  some  outland 
ish  gibberish,  that  I  was  free  to  roam  in  the  new  Republic. 

We  took  the  cars  instanter.  As  soon  as  it  became  light,  we 
found  ourselves  in  foreign  parts  indeed.  The  houses  looked 
small  and  old ;  the  ground  was  divided  into  little  patches,  and 
there  was  wanting  the  neat  air  of  English  rural  life.  There 
were  few  hedges.  The  "  lay "  of  the  country  resembled  our 
prairies  very  much.  The  fruit  trees  were  in  bloom.  The  dress 
of  the  peasants  was  generally  blue  short  coats.  They  looked 
quite  picturesque  in  the  early  dawn.  We  observed  many  large 
peat  beds,  and  quantities  of  that  essential  to  caloric  piled  about. 
Wood  seems  to  be  a  scarce  article.  The  tall,  straight.  Lombardy 
poplars  bftgin  to  appear  thick  and  fast.  And  now  we  see  sol 
diers,  and  priests,  too.  Next,  windmills  not  a  few.  All  these 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  77 

impressed  us  strangely.  The  houses,  with  their  earthenware 
roofs  and  old  walls,  had  an  antique  look,  and  these,  with  the 
jabber  of  talk  among  the  French,  told  us  that  we  were  pilgrims 
indeed. 

Not  so  when  we  reached  Paris.  Not  having  our  tongue  in 
as  yet,  to  the  little  French  we  knew  so  imperfectly,  we  were  com 
pelled  to  address  ourselves  to  the  railroad  agents,  who  spoke 
English.  There  we  first  began  to  realize  the  fact,  and  not  the 
form  only,  of  French  courtesy.  As  soon  as  we  let  the  officers 
know  that  we  were  Republicans  from  America,  and  not  English, 
how  they  hopped  about  to  show  us  our  baggage,  and  even  accom 
panied  us  to  our  hotel.  Let  American  travellers  in  France  not 
forget,  to  dispossess  the  minds  of  those  who  have  charge  of  them 
or  theirs,  of  the  idea  that  they  are  British.  You  ought  to  see 
a  Paris  cabman  take  off  a  gruff  John  Bull,  with  his  churlish 
crossness,  and  his  shrug  of  discontent. 

Not  expecting  to  remain  in  Paris  longer  than  was  necessary 
to  prepare  our  passports  for  Italy,  we  took  but  small  and  imper 
fect  glimpses  of  the  capital.  But  such  as  we  took  rewarded  us 
well.  How  proud  the  French  are  of  their  capital  !  and  they 
have  reason  to  be.  Not  of  their  long  and  dirty  streets,  with  lit 
tle  or  no  pavements,  of  which  a  great  part  of  the  city  consists  ; 
but  of  their  Boulevards,  the  Luxembourg,  the  Champs  Elysees, 
the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries.  and  other  spots  which  we  visited. 

We  needed  no  guide.  Our  company  being  inside,  I  mount 
ed  the  cab,  and  with  a  modicum  of  bad  French  began  the  duty 
of  guide  and  interpreter,  as  well  as  of  learner  and  teacher. — 
The  shrewd  cabman  could  readily  understand  me.  He  drove  us 
to  the  famous  Arch  of  Triumph,  from  which  we  took  a  view  of 
the  city.  The  arch  itself  is  worth  a  visit  to  Paris.  It  is  erect 
ed  to  honor  Napoleon,  his  soldiers,  and  his  victories.  It  is  re 
plete  with  carving,  representing  every  variety  of  prowess  by 
arms,  and  every  mode  of  its  consequent  glory.  From  such  a 
point  I  could  not  dwell  upon  detail. 

Buy  a  medal,  or  give  the  old  lady  at  the  entrance  a  gratui- 


78  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

tous  franc,  and  you  may  ascend  the  Arch.  What  a  glorious  pros 
pect  is  here  on  every  side  !  You  will,  with  the  aid  of  Gallig- 
nani's  map,  or  with  the  aid  of  some  Parisian,  perceive  the  prin 
cipal  points  of  interest  in  the  throbbing  life  of  gayety  and  glory 
below.  In  front  are  the  Champs  Elysees,  with  their  fine  walks, 
seats  and  shades ;  and  throughout,  are  scattered  stalls,  booths, 
and  circuses,  together  with  thousands  of  human  beings.  Indeed 
it  is  no  uncommon  thing,  of  Sundays,  to  see  at  least  two  hun 
dred  thousand  assembled  in  these  retreats.  That  place  of  foun 
tains  before  us,  is  the  Place  de  la  Concorde.  You  will  rcognize 
one  of  the  fountains  as  the  original  of  one  in  the  French  depart 
ment  of  the  Great  Exhibition.  Still  in  front  are  the  gardens  of  the 
Tuileries  the  Place  du  Carousal,  with  its  fine  arch,  and  the  Louvre. 

But  we  have  not  time  even  here  for  particulars.  Let  us  walk 
about  the  arch,  to  find  how  Paris  looks  generally,  with  its  roads 
leading  back  to  Versailles  and  St.  Germaine,  its  chateaux  and 
its  forts. 

Then  again  for  the  cab  and  a  minute  inspection  of  the  Lux 
embourg.  There  we  confess  that  even  Hyde  Park  is  beaten. 
Its  long  rows  of  statues,  its  elegant  flower-plots,  its  terraces, 
its  splendid  fountains,  its  urns,  its  delicious  umbrageousness,  its 
glorious  palace,  and  above  all,  its  thrilling  associations  with  the 
great  names  of  France,  render  it.  thus  far,  the  prominent  object 
in  our  travels. 

But  what  shall  we  say  of  Notre  Dame,  whose  superb  archi 
tecture  calls  for  the  best  and  loftiest  sweep  of  the  vision  ?  We 
drive  round  to  wonder  at  the  work  of  man  in  rearing  such  a  pile, 
and  at  the  work  of  Time  in  touching  its  stone  with  decay.  We 
enter.  Hushed  is  the  air  !  "  Peace,  be  still !"  the  spirit  of  the 
place  seemeth  to  say.  One  or  two  figures  are  in  prayer  at  the 
other  end  of  the  Cathedral ;  all  else  seems  a  SPIRITUAL  PRE 
SENCE  !  How  high,  how  deep — deep,  is  the  air  above  !  Move 
slowly  and  solemnly  along,  and  gaze  upon  the  master  works  of 
sacred  painting  to  your  right  and  left,  until  you  stand  before 
the  altar!  Then  look  upward.  What  a  Tabernacle,  Great 
God!  is  this  for  THEE? 


FJ(AJfCJt,—AJf  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  79 

.* 

In  such  a   temple,  the   ALMIGHTY,  if  ever  shrined  visibly, 

would  appear  !  What  mellow  splendors  from  the  many-colored 
windows  meet  each  other  midway  under  the  dome,  and  shower 
their  united  flood  of  rainbows  on  the  scene  below !  Here  is  a  place 
where  His  Presence  may  be  felt,  even  to  the  renewing  of  life, 
to  the  brightening  of  heavenly  Hope,  and  to  the  antedating  o. 
celestial  felicity.  Would  that  we  could  here  linger,  until  the 
sacred  atmosphere  of  the  temple  should  purify  our  souls,  and 
create  a  new  and  holier  essence  for  the  cycles  of  eternity  ! 

We  almost  forget  that  human  greatness,  "  only  not  divine," 
was  here  enthroned,  amid  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  power, 
in  the  person  of  Napoleon.  What  songs,  what  breathings  from 
yon  old  organ,  what  display  of  insignia  and  ceremonial  obser 
vances,  what  an  array  of  military  valor  and  pride,  what  crowds 
of  expectant  spectators  then  made  Notre  Dame  the  shrine  of 
earthly  ambition  in  its  proudest  worship  ! 

But  we  pass  to  another  scene,  where  an  ambition  and  a 
greatness  of  another  mould  is  celebrated.  Not  in  loud  murmurs. 
Oh  !  no — the  tombs  beneath  the  Pantheon  weep  eternal  silent 
moisture  over  the  remains  of  the  truly  great  of  France.  "  La 
Patrie,"  hath  remembered  them  by  a  most  fitting,  a  most  tear- 
compelling,  a  most  magnificent  tribute. 

Thus  has  France,  while  erecting  her  memorials  to  victory  all 
over  her  capital,  not  forgotten  the  immortalization  of  Thought, 
which  endlessly  wings  its  way  down  to  the  latest  generations, 
through  the  works  of  her  scholars  and  literary  men !  No  one  can 
fail  to  observe,  even  without  visiting  France,  the  intense  feeling 
constantly  flowing  out  in  honor  of  her  great  jnen.  Persons,  rather 
than  principles  are  reverenced.  Immortalization  of  renowned 
names  has  superseded  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  The  latter 
is  almost  an  obsolete,  if  it  ever  were  a  prevalent  idea.  All 
classes  of  the  community  unite  in  homage  to  the  hero.  The 
very  churches  are  built  to  honor  humanity,  not  Divinity.  The 
names  of  the  citizens  who  fell  in  July  1830,  are  engraved  upon 
splendid  shafts ;  but  the  principles  which  prompted  the  revolu- 


80  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

• 

tion  and  which  lie  at  the  root  of  all  popular  sovereignly,  were 
as  evanescent  as  last  Sunday's  gala.  Dynasties  may  be  over 
turned,  barricade-war  be  declared  biennially,  the  vivas  of  the 
people  changed  weekly  ;  yet  the  great  citizens  of  France  will 
ever  receive  apotheosis.  The  seven  millions  who  have  in 
December  1851,  sustained  the  coup  d'etat  of  a  BONAPARTE,  have 
been  mostly  moved  by  the  name  upon  the  bulletin. 

However  fickle  the  populace  of  this  city  may  be,  it  is  cer- 
ain,  that  for  all  the  revolutions  of  France,  her  Pantheon,  to  the 
truly  great,  will  remain  as  everlasting  as  their  fame.  "  Art," 
it  has  been  well  said,  "  is  dependent  on  the  tone  of  the  public 
mind,  as  the  more  delicate  plants  on  atmosphere  and  weather." 
It  needs  a  general  enthusiasm  for  beauty  and  sublimity,  like 
that  in  the  time  of  the  Medici,  to  call  forth  a  host  of  great  spi 
rits.  No  less  it  needs  the  same  enthusiasm  to  erect  monu 
ments  to  their  memory.  France  has  had  her  era  of  enthusiasm. 
Indeed,  it  is  an  element  which  never  subsides  in  her  bosom. 
We  may  well  rely  upon  it  to  protect  the  monuments  it  has 
reared. 

Tired,  but  not  sated  with  Parisian  spectacles,  we  wended  our 
way  to  the  hotel,  there  to  experience  a  new  mode  of  life,  wherein 
the  cafe  is  united  to  the  lodging-place,  where  the  garcon  plays 
the  part  of  the  English  John,  and  the  fat  fellow  with  a  white 
sugar-loaf  cap,  presides  over  cutlets  and  omelettes,  the  very 
Zeus  of  Olympian  cookery.  You  know  French  cookery  is  as 
world-famous  as  Yankee  notions.  Did  you  ever  hear  it  account- 
de  for?  You  did  not?  Here  it  is,  from  Sava.rin  himself. 
"  When  the  Britons,  Germans,  Cimmerians,  and  Scythians  broke 
into  France,  they  brought  with  them  a  large  voracity,  and  sto 
machs  of  no  ordinary  calibre.  Hence  Paris  became  an  immense 
refectory."  Is  not  that  a  perfect  sequitur  ?  At  any  rate,  we 
blessed  those  hungry  heathen,  and  felt  one  more  of  the  glories 
of  the  French  capital,  with  an  intensity,  quickened  by  exercise 
and  seasoned  by  novelty. 

Every  body  has  heard  of  a  French  diligence.     To  my  ima- 


FRANCE.— AX  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  gl 

gination,  it  always  had  a  piratical  cast  of  countenance.  It 
swelled  up  in  my  fancy  as  a  huge,  lumbering,  lazy,  wallowing,  un 
wieldy,  rickety  vehicle,  requiring  as  many  guards  as  passengers. 
Either  this  impression  was  erroneous,  or  else  vehicles  have  im 
proved  rapidly  in  France.  Look  at  that  huge  mass  in  three 
parts,  with  a  loading  that  would  do  honor  to  a  regiment  of  don 
keys,  or  a  patient  road-wagon  in  Pennsylvania.  It  does  at  first 
sight  look  gloomy  enough,  yet  in  every  thing  it  seems  comfort 
able.  Start  off;  and  away  we  rattle,  amid  the  hallooing  of 
boys,  the  gaze  of  women,  with  the  crack  of  the  whip,  (how  the 
French  do  eternally  snap  their  whips !)  and  the  merry  blast  of 
the  horn. 

Dr.  Johnson  thought  that  one  of  the  greatest  exhilarations  of 
life,  was  a  start  of  a  pleasant  morning  upon  an  English  coach. 
He  might  have  enlarged  the  remark  so  as  to  comprehend  his 
French  neighbors.  Rattle-rattle — amidst  the  narrow  lanes  of 
the  merry  Parisians — down  one  rue,  up  another,  past  this  col 
umn,  near  that  image — and  at  last  we  find  the  open  air  and  a 
splendid  railway  station.  Soon  our  diligence  is  hoisted  upon 
the  cars — an  odd-looking  genius  of  steam  ;  and  without  change, 
we  are  dashing  by  gardens  with  stone  circular  wells,  surrounded 
by  flowers,  and  little  tracts  of  laud  cut  up  into  smaller  ones,  all 
smiling  with  cultivation. 

Let  me  remark  that  the  land  here  is  owned  or  leased  in  little 
tractlets ;  which  are  subdivided  into  as  many  plots  as  will  raise 
wheat,  barley,  rye,  oats,  grass,  and  vetches  (a  red  flowering  grass 
for  horses,  similar  to  our  clover).  They  also  sow  tares,  to  cut 
them  up  while  green,  for  cattle.  Their  stock  is  all  confined,  so 
that  even  fences  are  dispensed  with.  Prominent  among  the 
divisions  of  the  tractlets  are  the  twisted  grape  vines,  trimmed 
closely,  and  just  now  tufted  with  verdure.  The  hills  are  staked 
plentifully  for  their  aid.  Flax,  mustard,  and  turnips,  some  of 
them  in  flower,  are  also  distributed.  The  price  of  ordinary 
peasant  labor,  as  I  learned  from  our  conductor,  is  only  about 
one  franc  at  best  (19  cents)  per  day;  and  when  the  laborers 
4* 


82  FRASCE.-AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

broad  themselves,  upwards  of  five  francs  ;  so  that  you  may  see 
that  provisions  are  as  high  as  wages  are  low. 

To  any  one  used  to  the  big,  fenced  fields  of  the  West,  these 
little  divisions  of  a  tenth  or  twentieth  of  an  acre,  which  appear 
even  to  the  summits  of  the  highest  hills,  in  oblong  form,  and 
many-colored,  present  a  strange  appearance,  and  remind  one  of 
the  patchwork  quilts  made  from  calicoes  or  silks. 

As  we  rattle  through  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Seine,  va 
riety  adds  to  the  natural  loveliness  of  the  landscapes.  Wind 
mills  fan  the  air,  and  tall  Lombardy  poplars,  with  their  tops 
plumed  like  soldiers,  stand  in  battalions,  almost  as  plentifully 
as  the  soldiers  themselves. 

From  the  first  moment  we  touched  France,  at  every  point, 
we  have  seen  men  in  glazed  caps,  with  their  handles  turned  up, 
indicating  as  a  Western  boy  would  express  it,  "  Corn  for  sale ;" 
with  violent  red  pants  and  long  surtouts ;  profuse  hair,  over  i 
pinched,  ochre  countenance,  with  sensual,  petty-larceny  looking 
eyes,  and  with  little  swords  dangling  to  their  sides,  or  muskets 
on  their  shoulders.  This  is  a  republic  too.  God  save  the  mark 
Why  even  in  the  walled  city  of  Avignon,  with  its  forty  thousand 
inhabitants,  there  are  eight  thousand  soldiers— one-fifth  of  the 
population.  At  Paris  every  turn  shows  a  soldier. 
Egalite  et  Fraternite,"  is  inscribed  upon  all  the  monuments  and 
public  property.  The  commentary  is  near  by  in  the  shape  of  a 
bayonet.  The  Hotels  of  Ministers,  and  the  Chamber  of  Depu 
ties,  as  well  as  hospitals  and  barracks,  have  a  parading  mus 
keteer  before  their  doors.  The  gardens  and  walks  are  thronged 
with  military  locusts.  Why  this  spectacle,  so  strange  to  a 
transatlantic  republican  ?  It  is  because  France  fears  herself; 
because  a  strong  government  is  needed  to  suppress  internal  re 
volt,  because  a  large  class  of  her  population  must  be  vagabond, 
and 'society  is  relieved  by  putting  them  under  military  subjec 
tion  ;  and  lastly,  because  Louis  Napoleon  would  perpetuate  his 
power,  and  France  must  be  ready  for  intervention  in  Italy,  or  in 
other  nations  on  the  continent,  Already  great  preparations  are 


FltAXCK—AN  EKTRY  AKD  AA    EXIT.  33 

being  made  to  send  troops  to  Rome.  Large  numbers  are  leaving 
Paris  daily  for  that  city,  to  suppress  an  expected  revolt.  They 
will  be  needed  at  home,  soon,  no  doubt.  France  has  had  a 
taste  of  republicanism.  She  cannot  remain  as  she  is,  so  long  as 
her  present  laws  remain.  Since  the  law  requiring  three  years' 
residence  for  the  voter,  disfranchised  three  millions  of  her 
people  ;  since  the  law  in  harsh  restraint  of  the  press,  requiring 
editors  to  sign  their  articles,  and  holding  them  responsible  for 
every  criticism  upon  the  government ;  and  with  346,000  sol 
diers,  and  87,000  horses  feeding  at  the  public  crib,  how  can  she 
be  stable  or  free  ?  The  alteration  of  the  Constitution,  by  which 
Louis  Napoleon  may  be  made  Emperor,  or  (so  called)  President 
for  life,  is  the  prominent  political  question.  We  hear  it  dis 
cussed  on  boats  and  in  cars.* 

But  we  are  ahead  of  our  journey.  The  Lombardy  poplars 
were  our  theme.  These  seem  to  be  the  only  wood  here.  They 
are  raised  for  the  lumber.  We  saw  persons  with  hand-saws  at 
work  in  this  age  of  steam,  and  within  fifty  miles  of  Paris, 
making  boards  out  of  them.  The  limbs  are  stripped,  and  out 
of  the  bushes  are  made  faggots,  which  are  tied  in  bundles,  and 
used  for  firewood. 

The  women  do  the  greatest  part  of  the  field  labor.  Our  ob 
servation  of  them  may  be  summed  up  thus  :  the  young  are  viva 
ciously  pretty,  and  the  old  are  horribly  ugly ;  but  both  are 
extremely  polite  and  unexclusive  in  their  communication.  But 
one  should  be  chary  of  criticism  upon  the  women  of  France, 
among  whom  are  numbered  Joan  of  Arc,  Madame  de  Stael,  and 
the  little  wife  of  the  great  Conde,  who  was  fighting  her  hus 
band's  battles  while  he  watered  pinks  in  prison. 

One  feature  of  the  landscape  we  should  not  omit.  It  is  the 
donkey,  almost  hid  though  he  be,  under  the  weight  of  harness. 
Along  he  trudges,  jingling  his  bell,  and  his  little  feet  in  strange 

*  The  reader  will  remember  that  these  pages  were  written  in  France, 
before  the  coup  d'e'tat.  Political  prognostics  for  a  country,  like  France,  is 
at  best  but  wild  guessing. 


84  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

contrast  with  the  heavy  burden  he  bears.  He  called  for  more 
sympathy  than  any  other  part  of  the  population.  COLERIDGE 
must  have  travelled  here  when  he  wrote  his  plaintive  ode  to  that 
languid  animal,  and  "  meek  child  of  misery."  I  can  well  under 
stand  how  the  poet's  sensitive  soul  trickled  with  pity  as  he  con 
templated  the  young  foal's  prophetic  fate,  under  the  thousand 
aches  which  patient  merit  from  the  unworthy  takes  ;  but  if  \ 
should  live  until  the  star  of  empire  should  set.  I  could  never 
understand  how  a  poet  even,  as  Coleridge  did,  could  find  in  the 
harsh,  dissonant,  prolonged,  agonizing,  choking,  desperate  bray 
of  the  donkey,  a  spirit  and  a  tone  more  musically  sweet  than 
warbled  melodies  that  soothe  the  aching  heart  to  rest !  But 
there  is  a  second  sight,  I  suppose,  allowed  to  the  poet,  which 
the  profanum  vulgus  must  not  seek  to  attain. 

Alternating  between  diligence,  cars  and  steamboat,  we 
pursue  our  way.  We  left  the  cars  at  Tonnere,  not  far  from 
which  city  is  a  queer  old  ruined  castle,  one  of  the  finest  of  the 
middle  ages ;  passing  Dijon,  we  reached  Chalons,  where  we 
took  a  long,  narrow,  low  steamer,  about  as  wide  as  one  of  our 
canal  boats,  and  twice  as  long.  The  Saone  is  a  clear  stream, 
perhaps  one  hundred  yards  wide,  and  walled  almost  all  along. 
Its  banks  are  green  and  low.  The  country,  unlike  other  parts 
of  France,  seems  to  be  improving.  The  towns  through  which 
we  passed  before  we  took  the  boat,  are  of  stone,  and  rapidly 
dilapidating.  The  streets  are  all  well  paved,  however,  and  the 
accommodations  good. 

It  would  have  made  you  laugh  to  have  peeped  in  upon  us 
while  at  supper  in  an  old  half-castle,  half-stable,  of  an  auberge, 
in  one  of  the  towns  before  we  reached  Dijon.  About  twenty 
French  men  and  women,  all  jolly,  sat  around  us  Buckeyes. 
Away  they  gibbered,  and  directly  we  became  acquainted.  Dif 
ferent  persons,  who  knew  as  little  English  as  we  did  French, 
undertook  to  speak  for  us ;  and  while  the  wine  went  round,  and 
the  dishes  were  passed,  laughing  and  joyance  followed.  Such  a 
glee  we  never  saw ;  we  knew  they  were  not  laughing  at  us,  for 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  35 

the  French  never  do  this.  Every  attempt  at  French  was  tres 
Hen.  Every  successful  attempt  at  bad  English  by  the  French, 
we  received  with  "  6on,  bon."  They  acknowledged  we  spoke 
better  French  than  they  English,  and  with  mutual  gratulations 
to  the  two  great  republics,  we  again  resumed  our  way.  That 
scene  can  never  be  pictured.  If  you  would  illumine  Babel  with 
a  few  gleams  of  sunshine,  and  set  out  in  it  a  creaking  board  of 
supper,  you  might  allegorize  it  somewhat.  We  knew  just  enough 
of  French  to  make  the  perplexity  efficiently  comical  for  a  good 
farce.  The  stamp  of  an  awkward  man  upon  a  gouty  toe  is  not 
half  so  comically  embarrassing.  The  perfect  understanding  we 
all  had,  when  it  came  to  the  language  of  spoon,  knife  and  fork, 
heightened  the  scene.  The  French  gesture,  not  alone  with 
fingers,  hands  and  arms,  but  on  this  festal  occasion  eye 
brows,  eye,  nose,  mouth,  whiskers,  and  head  entire,  were  called 
into  use  to  give  significance  to  the  tongue.  I  do  not  wonder  the 
French  boast  of  the  first  comic  writer,  Moliere. 

What  fine  bridges  span  the  Saone  !  They  are  very  low ; 
but  a  tinkle  of  the  bell  lowers  the  pipe  of  the  steamer,  by  hand, 
and  we  dart  between  the  piers,  when  it  is  raised  by  steam.  The 
freshly-ploughed  hills  on  the  right  swell  up,  and  smile  to  the 
very  clouds  with  the  evidences  of  industry.  How  they  will  bleed 
with  the  wine  in  October  ! 

We  soon  arrived  at  Macon,  near  which  Lamartine  was  born, 
and  the  scene  of  much  of  his  "  Confidences."  The  pensive 
beauty  of  the  surrounding  scenery  might  well  develop  so  melan 
choly  and  tender  a  Muse  as  his.  Half  in  shadow,  and  half  in 
sunlight,  hung  the  long  line  of  hills,  sentinelled  here  and  there 
with  the  poplars,  and  all  overarched  by  a  soft,  clear,  blue  firma 
ment.  Well  might  they  infuse  into  his  soul  that  intense  feeling 
of  the  lovely  and  ecstatic,  which  distinguishes  Lamartine. 

Soon  we  leave  the  stone  quays  of  the  wine-trading  town  of 
Macon,  where  we  were  met  by  a  host  of  women,  with  baskets  of 
edibles  on  long  poles,  who  poked  them  under  our  noses  from  the 
banks.  A  few  hours  more,  and  our  boat  is  approaching  the  silk 


86 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 


and  velvet  metropolis.  You  may  know  Lyons  by  the  splendid 
pallisades,  upon  which  frown  rare  old  legendary  towers,  round 
and  grim ;  the  rocks  surmounted  with  elegant  residences ;  ter 
races  of  green  and  flowers  beautifying  the  gray  and  dark  rocks ; 
statues  adorning  arches  and  gateways,  and  every  where  the  con 
test  of  haggard,  petrified  Nature,  embracing,  but  subdued  by 
the  gentle  influences  of  leafy  groves  and  artistic  monuments. 
The  isle  Barbe  here  was  once  a  favorite  residence  of  Charle 
magne,  and  is  even  yet  a  spot  of  rare  beauty  in  the  Saone. 

Below  in  the  river  we  pass  a  fleet  of  river  craft,  laden  with 
hay  and  straw.  Bell  ringing,  military  music  and  noise,  usher 
us  into  our  pier.  Lyons  is  throned  among  hills,  and  looks  im 
posing. 

It  is  hard,  after  looking  upon  and  describing  such  spectacles 
as  the  Luxembourg,  the  Pantheon,  N6tre  Dame,  and  other  places 
in  Paris,  to  find  adequate  admiration  in  language  for  other  less 
attractive  scenes.  There  is  a  "  joyful  amazement"  that  entrances 
the  traveller,  which  is  not  dependent  merely  upon  relative 
beauty,  but  which  belongs  to  the  spirit.  As  he  passes  from  no 
vel  enchantment  to  even  a  less  enchanting  attraction,  that  amaze 
ment  increases  in  intensity  and  refinement  The  eye  becomes 
able  to  see  all  beauty,  the  ear  to  hear  inexhaustible  harmony, 
and  "  the  senses  to  drink  in  the  balmy  and  bracing  air." 

Just  as  the  evening  of  Thursday  was  dying  away,  our  dili 
gence  abruptly  turned  from  its  direction  down  the  Saone,  into  a 
valley  of  exquisite  beauty,  which  yet  lingers  about  my  mind  as 
a  dream  of  heaven.  I  thought  at  first  it  must  be  the  far-famed 
valley  of  Vaucluse,  opening  to  us  its  world  of  witchery.  But 
no  ;  as  we  learned  very  soon,  it  was  near  Vienne,  the  ancient 
capital  of  the  Allobroges, — a  ville  between  Lyons  and  Avignon 

Let  us  look  around.  Upland  slopes  rise  one  above  the  other, 
high  as  the  eye  can  see  without  pain,  and  cultivated  to  the  very 
summits  with  the  vine.  An  infinity  of  stakes  set  for  the  vine 
multiply  before  the  eye  ;  while  terraces  relieve  the  rocks  of  their 
barren  appearance.  Skirting  our  road  are  huge  rocks  upon 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  87 

which  cling  yellow,  purple  and  red  flowers.  Wild  roses  hang 
over  their  edges,  and  form  natural  tapestry.  The  meadows  be 
low,  are  spangled  with  unromantic  poppies ;  but  they  look  beautiful 
in  their  wild,  bright-red  dress.  A  stream  of  water  flows  far  be 
low  the  meadows,  making  the  air  musical  with  its  falls.  Groves 
of  the  Lombardy  stand  unconcerned  about  the  hills ;  while  as 
we  advance,  mulberry-trees,  upon  which  boys  are  gathering 
leaves,  goats  feeding  upon  the  side-hills,  and  the  little  earthen 
ware  roofs  of  the  vine-dressers,  appear. 

Now  a  factory  for  silk  gives  the  idea  of  utility  to  the  view, 
and  we  meet  crowds  of  pretty  girls  in  caps,  and  with  flowers,  pass 
ing  and  repassing,  as  well  as  boys  with  their  fishing-poles, 
returning  home  to  Vienne.  Far  over  beyond  all  this  realm  of 
beauty,  is  a  huge  range  of  rocks,  in  which  are  carved  houses. 
Now  splendid  chateaus,  with  vineyards  and  flower-gardens,  leap 
as  if  by  magic,  from  behind  hills,  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  val 
ley.  Soon  we  pass  stone  fountains,  and  all  at  once  the  "  arrowy 
Rhone"  bursts  upon  the  view,  red  and  golden  in  the  sunlight. 
What  strange  old  pillar  is  that  we  saw  in  one  of  the  meadows  of 
the  valley — towering  up  seventy  or  eighty  feet  ?  It  cannot  be 
French,  for  it  is  too  old.  I  learned  that  my  surmise  was  cor 
rect,  that  it  was  a  Roman  monument.  Somehow  or  other  the 
French  make  their  roads,  so  as  to  run  near  any  monument 
of  beauty  or  of  antiquity.  In  America,  we  scarcely  deviate 
from  a  graveyard  for  a  railroad.  As  the  sun  went  down,  it 
glanced  through  cloud-bars  with  a  brilliancy  that  sparkled  in  the 
glistening  air.  Surely  we  must  be  approaching  a  sunnier  clime, 
where  Beauty  reposes  in  the  lap  of  a  lovelier  nature. 

Scarcely  had  we  reached  Vienne,  before  the  sound  of  music 
and  the  appearance  of  a  dance,  down  the  street,  about  a  half 
square  from  the  diligence-office,  riveted  the  ear  and  eye.  Young 
men  and  maidens  were  moving  "  right  and  left,"  crossing  over 
and  all  around, — embodiments  of  happy  hilarity.  But  where 
we  stopped,  there  was  found  a  contrast  to  this  gay  scene.  A 
crowd  of  beggars,  consisting  of  cripples  of  all  twists,  shapes, 


88  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

some  circular,  one-legged,  armless,  and  otherwise  deformed, 
crowded  around  us.  A  regular  fight  ensued,  as  to  who  should 
obtain  precedence  to  the  diligence.  What  a  commentary  ! 
It  completely  unveiled  Charles  Lamb's  humorous  sophistry 
in  his  plea  for  beggars,  wherein  he  demonstrates  the  unenvied 
contentment  of  the  beggar's  lot,  above  all  strifes,  suits,  fashions, 
chances,  bankruptcies  and  ills  which  fortunate  flesh  is  heir  to — 
the  only  absolute  monarchs  and  independent  citizens  !  In 
France,  even  beggary  fights  for  its  caste,  as  well  as  whines  for 
its  sous.  Yet  there  was  bread  (large  circular  rolls  or  loaves, 
about  three  feet  round,  in  the  French  style)  hanging  within  reach, 
at  a  baker's  shop. 

The  silk-worm  and  the  grape-cluster — how  simple  in  them 
selves;  yet  how  many  millions  in  France  depend  upon  them  for 
life.  How  strange,  too,  it  was,  to  see  those  beggars  in  that  beau 
tiful  valley,  where  one  might  imagine  the  fruition  of  Milton's  idea 
of  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectared  sweets.  After  having  gathered 
flowers  by  the  hill-side,  as  souvenirs  of  this  enchanted  spot,  we 
courted  the  influence  of  the  poppy,  which  by  a  curious  lucus  a 
non  luccndo  seems  to  be  the  most  plentiful  flower  in  this 
undecpjid  land. 

The  next  morning,  our  conductor  gave  me  a  seat  by  his  side, 
and  with  my  little  French,  which  is  daily  improving  of  neces 
sity,  I  learned  every  thing  of  interest  in  yesterday's  ride.  What 
strange  appearance  is  that  in  the  east,  away  off  among  and 
above  the  dim  hills  ?  Can  it  be  solid  earth,  with  clouds  below 
it ?  "  Alp  montaigne"  says  our  conductor.  A  long  range  of 
the  Alps  followed  us  during  our  ride,  at  times  white-topped  with 
snow.  Soon  we  entered  upon  the  valley  of  Vaucluse,  so  famous 
in  the  songs  of  the  Troubadour ;  so  famous  as  the  locality  of 
the  tombs  and  fountains  of  PETRARCH  and  LAURA  ;  so  famous 
for  its  beautiful  heaven  and  unrivalled  scenery ;  and  so  famous 
for  its  Roman  ruins.  But,  above  all,  to  my  mind,  it  was  the 
home  of  PETRARCH.  The  Abbe  de  Lille  touches  the  right 
strain  when  he  sings, 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  89 

"  Ces  eaux,  ce  beau  ciel,  ce  vallon  enchanteuu 
Moiiis  que  Petrarque  et  Laura  interressoient  mon  coeur. 
La  voila  done,  desors-je,  .oui,  voila  cette  rive 
Que  Petrarque  que  charmoit  de  sa  lyre  plaintive." 

We  passed  crosses  at  the  road-side,  bung  with  chaplets,  pea 
sants  driving  homeward  the  early  harvesting  of  hay,  and  auberges 
with  their  signs  of  holly  over  their  hospitable  doors.  Soon  the 
old  ruins  begin  to  appear.  I  called  all  my  poor  French  into 
requisition.  How  it  brings  one  out,  this  curiosity.  The  most 
prominent  ruin  was  called  the  Chateau  de  Mont  Dragon.  It 
was  a  high,  long  palisade,  built  by  Nature  for  a  stronghold. 
The  walls  ran  up  in  solid  masses  175  or  200  feet  high,  and  upon 
these  the  old  Roman  caution  had  built  towers  against  the  Allo- 
broges.  All  around  the  hills  were  the  ruins  of  the  Roman.  Here 
the  eagles  of  Caesar  and  Marius  played  with  the  wind. 

After  having  passed  the  Chateau  de  Mont  Dragon,  which  is 
in  Vaucluse,  we  glided  between  tiled  houses  and  willows,  which 
line  the  road-side,  until  Orange  gleamed  in  the  sun.  Here  is  a 
grand  amphitheatre  of  the  Romans ;  and  the  relict  ruins  of  the 
Princes  of  Orange,  above  it  upon  the  hill.  As  we  passed  very 
near,  we  had  a  good  opportunity  to  see  the  outside  of  the  amphi 
theatre.  Its  concave  was  turned  to  the  hill,  consequently  we  could 
not  see  its  interior.  It  was  not  until  we  passed,  and  that  my 
neck  had  been  stretched  some  feet  out  of  the  diligence,  that  I 
caught  a  view  of  the  seats.  It  is  not  broken  and  ruined,  like 
the  Coliseum.  Its  semicircle  is  perfect,  It  looked  the  old 
Roman  in  every  stone.  Here,  doubtless,  were  the  Gallic  pri 
soners  of  war  sacrificed  to  grace  a  "  Roman  holiday."  Many  a 
noble  Allobrogian  struggled  in  the  ring  with  the  wild  beasts  of 
his  native  forests,  and  died  amid  the  shouts  of  his  victors.  In 
glancing  at  such  and  similar  scenes,  how  often  recurred  to  my 
mind  the  verse : 

"  What  tales,  what  morals  of  the  Elder  day, 
If  stones  had  language,  could  that  pile  convey." 


90  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

A  poet  has  said  that  there  are  sermons  in  stones ;  and  verily, 
that  solemn,  gloomy  vestige  of  the  mighty  power  of  the  olden 
time,  is  more  eloquent  in  its  silence  than  a  great  many  sermons 
which  I  have  heard. 

A  splendid  arch  appears!  And  now,  as  we  approach  it, 
snakes,  shields,  battle-axes,  and  other  figures,  all  in  ruins,  yet 
sufficiently  solid  and  distinct,  while  crumbling,  to  tell  us  that 
Marius  was  here  with  his  legions  of  Victory,  and  that  this  is 
his  memento  of  the  battle  with  the  Allobroges.  But  how  much 
brighter  is  the  triumphal  arch  to  Napoleon  at  Paris  !  Caesar 
himself  pales  before  Napoleon's  blood-red  glory.  But  we  have 
more  marvels  in  this  valley  of  Beauty.  Avignon,  our  dining- 
place,  appears,  not  by  itself,  but  by  its  splendid  representative, 
the  palace  of  the  Bishop,  whose  lofty  turrets  and  gray  old  towers, 
massive  and  substantial,  are  lifted  high  above  the  surrounding 
country.  This  view  gives  place  to  the  high  wall,  not  without  a 
certain  rude  ornament,  and  not  untouched  by  Time,  which  with 
its  towers  and  deep  moat  surrounds  this  city  of  forty  thousand 
people.  An  old  aqueduct  crosses  the  Rhone  here  ;  or  rather  has 
crossed  it  once.  Now  it  has  broken  down  in  the  middle.  Its 
windows  and  arches  look  mournful  and  dreary  beside  the  new, 
prim,  and  saucy  suspension  bridge,  which,  just  below  it,  leaps 
the  stream,  as  if  the  effort  were  of  little  consequence.  Here, 
too.  we  see  a  splendid  depot,  and  locomotives  puffing  over  the 
iron  rail.  The  old  and  new  civilizations  meet  together.  The 
middle  and  later  ages  kiss  each  other. 

You  remember  that  there  was  an  ancient  tradition  among 
the  Romans,  that  when  their  Capital  was  founded,  the  god  Ter 
minus  refused  to  yield  to  Jupiter ;  and  hence,  the  boundaries 
of  Roman  power  never  would  recede.  Vain  and  delusive  pre 
diction  !  Had  there  been  no  other  Jupiter  to  subdue  their 
Terminus,  steam  would  have  become  the  "  Father  of  gods  and 
men."  The  thunder  of  Jove  must  have  succumbed  to  the  light 
ning  of  Morse.  Steamboats  and  locomotives  would  have  driven 
Terminus  to  his  seven  hills.  In  this  interior  city  of  France  is 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT.  91 

an  epitome  of  the  great  past,  and  the  greater  present ;  the  one 
splendid  in  decay,  the  other  wonderful  in  its  active  energy. 
Upon  this  energy  hangs  the  future  fate  of  Nations.  Iron,  not 
gold,  is  the  metal  to  be  sought  for,  whose  subtle  power,  alchemy 
in  its  most  potent  form,  under  the  spell  of  its  old  enchanters, 
RAYMOND  LILLY  and  ROGER  BACON,  could  never  rival. 

Over  hills  and  down  dales,  amid  mulberry  groves  and  silk 
factories,  and  everlasting  soldiers,  we  find  the  open  country,  and 
with  the  speed  of  a  locomotive  we  dash  away  in  our  diligence 
towards  this  my  present  locale  of  Avignon,  where  at  the  Nation 
al,  late  royal  (?)  Hotel,  strawberries  and  cherries  blush  to  be 
seen  in  luscious  prodigality. 

Two  things  yet  deserve  mention.  Before  we  reached  Avig 
non,  the  castle  called  the  ruins  of  the  Baron  d'Ardret  appeared. 
It  towered  upon  high  battlements,  filled  with  port-holes.  Art 
had  been  aided  by  Nature  to  construct  one  of  those  illustrations 
of  strength,  which,  after  repulsing  many  a  gallant  foe,  has  even 
bid  Time  defiance.  The  legend  connected  with  this  castle,  as  I 
gathered  it  from  our  conductor,  is  briefly,  that  the  Baron  whose 
name  it  bears,  upon  the  breaking  out  of  the  French  revolution 
in  1789,  good-naturedly,  no  doubt,  hurled  four  of  his  domestics 
over  these  terrific  heights.  That  places  it  conspicuously  upon 
my  list  of  ruins. 

We  dashed  under  the  arched  gateways  of  Avignon  and  into 
a  courtyard ;  and  really  the  scene  came  over  me  like  a  romance 
of  the  middle  ages.  We  entered  a  fine  hotel,  kept  in  a  sort  of 
old  castle,  yet  fixed  up  most  comfortably.  All  the  houses  here 
have  stone  or  marble  floors,  and  although  these  do  not  coincide 
altogether  with  our  ideas  of  comfort,  yet  the  romance  of  the 
thing — you  know — makes  up.  We  wished  for  a  longer  repose 
than  two  hours  at  this  beautiful  city  ;  but  no  !  down  we  dash  to 
wards  Marseilles.  What  towns  we  passed — what  olive  orchards, 
what  black  and  gray  old  rocks,  what  vineyards  and  terraces,  be 
fore  our  cars  entered  that  three-mile  tunnel,  dark  and  damp,  un 
der  the  mountain,  are  all  too  common  by  this  time  to  be  partic- 


92  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

ularized.  At  last,  through  a  mountain  gorge  appeared  the  Med 
iterranean,  with  its  bosom  of  blue,  speckled  with  its  sails  of 
white.  A  summer  storm  came  up  as  we  drew  near  our  destina 
tion,  a  storm  of  rain,  sunshine  and  rainbows.  I  saw  one  column 
of  a  beauteous  bow  coming  out  of  an  old  tower,  and  gradually  mov 
ing  into  the  Mediterranean.  It  arched  us  so  completely  that 
we  may  truly  say,  that  we  entered  this  '  Queen  city '  of  the 
Mediterranean,  upon  the  last  day  of  spring,  under  a  bending 
heaven  of  prisms  !  As  it  cleared  away,  the  air  was  filled  with  a 
rich,  interpenetrating  lustre ;  and  the  sun  went  down  under  a 
golden  canopy  which  only  hangs  in  a  southern  sky. 

Marseilles  is  a  gay,  godless,  and  not  a  very  cleanly  city ; 
soldiers  fill  every  part  of  it.  Its  promenades  are  fine.  We 
visited  the  Chateau  of  Flowers,  which  is  the  favorite  resort  on 
Sundays,  of  the  population.  It  was  well  named.  Flowers  of 
every  hue,  beds  laid  off  in  every  form,  places  for  amusement 
and  exercise,  lakes  with  boats  and  swans,  hills,  grottoes,  a  circus 
and  fountains,  all  unite  to  make  it  a  place  of  pleasure,  a  favor 
ite  resort  of  the  gay  French. 

We  went  upon  a  high  point  near  the  sea,  overlooking  the 
city,  to  take  a  farewell  of  it,  as  well  as  a  complete  glance.  We 
were  not  disappointed  in  our  view.  But  we  met  three  odd,  tur 
baned  human  beings  upon  the  lofty  promenade,  seated  cross 
legged,  and  smoking  as  composedly  as  Mahomet  amid  a  heaven 
of  houris.  I  supposed  they  were  Turks.  They  nodded.  We 
nodded.  The  chief  had,  strangely  enough  we  thought,  a  very 
long  white  beard  (albeit  a  young  man),  a  very  fair  complexion, 
and  very  light  eyes,  which  he  twisted  very  remarkably.  Find 
ing  I  did  not  advance  in  conversation,  he  inquired  in  French 
if  we  were  not  strangers,  then  if  we  were  not  English.  '  Non 
Non  /'  rather  emphatic.  I  asked  him,  in  return,  if  he  and  his 
compatriots  resided  in  Marseilles  ?  '  Non,  Non?  Once  more— 
delicate  question  to  such  a  queer  heathen,  '  If  he  did  not  reside 
in  Turkey  !'  '  Moroc,  Monsieur.'  Whew  !  perhaps  the  Em 
peror  of  Morocco  himself.  He  gravely  pulled  out  his  snuft 


FRANCE.— AN  ENTRV  AND  AN  EXIT.  93 

box,  and  I.  with  a  grand  flourish  (I  hate  snuff  as  bad  as  brandy), 
took  a  tremendous  pinch  ;  and  with  the  most  approved  Oriental 
sweep  of  the  arm,  applied  it  to  my  nose.  Before  the  first  ex 
plosion  took  place,  I  was  behind  the  bushes.  '  Oh — Ah — Ghee 
— Whoo-o  !'  six  times  sonorously  loud.  The  Emperor  roared. 
'Our  party  roared  ;  and  I  described  space,  aided  by  gravity, 
remarkably  rapid.  Snuff  is  a  miserable  practice.  None  but 
heathens  use  it. 

I  must  bid  farewell  to  France.  She  has  been  a  garden  of 
delight  to  me.  Never  was  I  so  beholden  to  Nature  and  Art  for 
enjoyment. 

I  write  amid  the  discussions  of  some  six  or  eight  white- 
robed  Capuchin  monks,  whose  sweet  Italian  (Tuscan  it  is), 
ravishes  my  ear.  while  it  disturbs  my  pen.  We  are  aboard  of 
the  Sardinian  steamer  Languedoc,  bound  for  Leghorn  and 
Naples.  I  cannot  but  look  upon  these  strange  monkish  men 
with  a  sort  of  reverence.  Sacrificing  the  world  and  its  pleas 
ures,  continually  engaged  in  spiritual  or  mental  exercise,  they 
do  deserve  the  regard  of  every  tolerant  Christian.  Whatever 
of  abuse  may  have  been  by  them  perpetrated  and  perpetuated, 
I  never  can  forget  them  as  the  preservators  of  the  classics  and 
the  regenerators  of  the  Arts.  The  Benedictines  first  penetrat 
ed  the  chilly  north  of  Europe  and  christianized  it.  From 
them  sprung  the  infinite  beauty  of  the  Gothic  architecture,  and 
the  entrancing  sweetness  of  Music.  The  Augustines  built  fine 
Cathedrals,  and  attracted  the  untutored  mind  to  the  service  of 
the  God  of  Mercy. — The  mendicant  friars  founded  hospitals. 
As  architects,  as  glass  painters,  as  mosaic  workers,  as  chem 
ists,  as  carvers  in  wood  and  metal,  the  Benedictines  were  the 
first  and  almost  only  artists  of  the  middle  ages.  St.  Francis, 
when  he  wooed  and  won  his  bride,  Poverty,  in  his  brown  sack 
and  cowl,  at  the  same  time,  gave  the  hue  and  tone  to  that  mystic 
school  of  painting  and  poetry,  which  has  ever  been  the  greatest 
attraction  to  the  loftiest  genius.  Giotto  in  painting,  and  Dante 
in  poetry, — are  they  not  offspring,  noble  enough  to  justify  our 


94  FRANCE.— AN  ENTRY  AND  AN  EXIT. 

commendation  1     In  all,  these  poor  monks  worked  not  for  them 
selves  ;  but  for  the  glory  of  God  ! 

And  now  as  they,  with  their  clear  dark  eyes  and  lofty  brows, 
are  retiring  to  their  berths,  my  eyes  follow  them  as  strange 
relics  of  an  earlier  day,  lost  to  the  active  world  and  busy  with 
scenes  of  the  past  and  of  the  future.  Sleep  on  !  Ye  have  no 
illiberal,  harsh  Protestantism  following  ye  to  your  lonely  pillows. 
May  God  reward  your  zeal  in  his  service,  by  the  fruition  of  your 
happiest  hopes  ! 


IX. 

Inm?  of 

u  Italia !  that  thou  wert  in  thy  nakedness 
Less  lovely  or  more  powerful,  and  could  claim 
Thy  right,  and  awe  the  robbers  back  who  press 
To  shed  thy  blood,  and  drink  the  tears  of  thy  distress." 

ETROTT. 

I  HAD  scarcely  written  the  word  "  Genoa,"  in  my  journal, 
before  the  evening  gun  from  the  fort  was  fired,  the  report  of 
which  startled  a  thousand  echoes.  Never  did  I  hear  such  a  fine 
succession  of  iterated  sounds.  Of  course  we  rushed  to  the  win 
dow  ;  but  only  saw  the  smoke  rising  and  beclouding  the  young 
crescent  moon.  The  light-houses  are  gleaming  around  another 
crescent  which  the  harbor  of  Genoa  forms,  while  including  in  it 
the  masts  of  a  thousand  ships.  The  long  promenade  of  marble, 
which  forms  the  roof  of  the  Porticato  alia  Pia'zzo,  whitens  be 
neath  us,  in  the  warm  atmosphere ;  and  the  sound  of  singing,  of 
merry  bells  and  of  voices  rise,  forming  a  rare  medley  of  music. 

Were  I  to  select  a  word  descriptive  of  this  city,  which  is 
called  the  "  superb,"  I  would  select  the  above — medley.  Not 
only  is  it  a  medley  in  its  people,  its  palaces,  and  its  poverty ; 
but  in  its  cathedrals,  its  cafes,  and  its  scenery.  As  we  approach 
the  city  from  the  blue  sea,  which  we  did  in  the  morning,  it  seemed 
one  compact  mass  of  marble,  cut  out  in  semi-circular  form  for  a 
harbor.  It  lies  upon  a  high  hill-side,— one  street  of  palaces  ris 
ing  above  another,  in  close  proximity.  To  all  appearance,  there 
is  not  much  to  be  seen  here.  But  judge  not  too  quickly.  You 
may  find  much,  even  in  the  little  walk  from  the  boat  to  the  hotel, 
to  reward  your  observation.  No  doubt,  you  will  be  first  caught 
by  the  graceful  and  peculiar  costume  of  the  ladies.  They  are 
exceedingly  well  dressed,  and  walk  nearly  as  easily  and  as  finely 


THE  HOME  OF  COLUMBUS. 


as  our  own  American  women.  They  wear  a  white  veil,  which 
being  confined  with  a  silver  pin  in  the  back  part  of  a  fine  head  of 
black  hair,  neatly  braided,  flows  in  the  most  elegant,  wavy  lines 
imaginable.  It  is  disposed  in  handsome  folds  over  as  hand 
some  dresses.  If  you  would  go  down  the  Strada  Nuova,  as  we 
have  to-day,  the  first  idea  would  be  —  "  why,  can  this  be  real—  is 
it  not  a  general  bridal-day  ?  How  happy  and  spruce  dance  the 
merry  brides  along  this  palace-street  !" 

The  other  part  of  the  population  do  not  dress  peculiarly. 
They  have  a  harsh  language,  however,  even  though  it  be  Ita 
lian.  Indeed,  it  is  as  different  from  the  sweet  Tuscan  or  Nea 
politan,  as  I  am  from  Hercules.  The  Sardinians  cannot  be  un 
derstood  at  Naples,  any  more  than  a  Pottowattamie  by  a  Flat- 
head. 

Upon  entering  our  boat  at  Marseilles,  where  we  spent  a  de 
lightful  day,  we  found  three  Americans,  Mrs.  Stephens,  the  au 
thoress,  and  her  company,  with  whom  we  formed  a  delightful 
acquaintance.  She  has  been  travelling  in  Europe  for  more  than 
a  year  ;  passing,  by  virtue  of  her  talents  and  reputation,  among 
the  best  and  noblest  of  Europe.  And  let  it  be  remembered 
too,  that  wherever  she  has  been,  she  has  not  forgotten  that  she 
was  a  plain-spoken  American  lady.  The  reader  may  remembei 
the  cavalier  manner  in  which  she  treated  the  Queen  of  Greece. 
who  insulted  our  consul,  by  refusing  to  permit  him  to  present 
them.  It  was  capital.  She  told  us  the  story  with  great  eclat  ; 
while  we  young  embodiments  of  American  grit  and  spunk, 
cheered  it  most  joyfully. 

I  had  no  idea  that  Genoa  was  of  such  consequence.  She 
has  not  lost  her  commercial  power  since  the  days  of  Columbus. 
Others  have  excelled  her—  that  is  all.  One  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  people  mostly  depend  on  her  commerce.  She  is  the 
outlet  in  the  Mediterranean,  for  Switzerland,  Lombardy,  ami 
Piedmont.  Her  silks,  velvets,  and  damasks,  to  say  nothing  of 
her  filagree  work  in  silver,  which  our  ladies  have  been  handling 
to-day  hi  the  famous  Goldsmith-street,  are  prominent  objects  of 
manufacture 


THE  HOME   OF  COLUMBUS.  97 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  a  foreigner  here,  is  the  narrow 
ness  of  the  streets.  Indeed,  there  are  very  few  over  which  you 
cannot  step  from  roof  to  roof.  Carriages  are  rarely  seen.  Mules 
are  the  only  living  objects  visible,  beside  human  beings.  The 
streets  are  not  gloomy,  however.  They  are  lined  with  fine 
houses,  built  when  the  maritime  splendor  of  Genoa  was  at  its 
zenith.  These  houses  are  all  called  palaces.  They  have  been  such, 
but  from  the  poverty  of  the  nobles,  or  from  some  other  cause,  they 
have  been  leased  out.  I  saw  a  blacksmith  shop  in  the  lower 
story  of  one  of  them ;  and  little  stores  are  not  uncommon  in 
some  of  the  largest  class.  These  palaces  looked  worn  and  tired; 
their  painting  spoiled,  and  not  unlike  a  fine  lady  jaded  after 
some  grand  ball.  The  paintings  on  the  marble  walls  are  rub 
bed  and  dim.  The  statues,  almost  all  of  them,  have  their  noses 
knocked  off  The  fine  stair  cases,  with  their  guardian  marble 
forms,  look  dirty  and  neglected.  Yet  Genoa  is — superb  ;  every 
body  says  so.  It  would  not  do  for  us  to  say  nay,  to  such  a 
community  of  affirmation. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  there  are  not  exceptions,  though 
few,  to  this  untoward  appearance  of  the  palaces.  Nor  would  I 
thus  depicture  the  inner  appearance.  Our  visions  to-day  forbid. 
There  is  an  air  of  massiveness  and  stonencss  about  the  edifices, 
which  is  as  striking  as  it  is  comfortless.  This  is  as  apparent  in 
the  old  as  in  the  new  part  of  the  city.  The  best  of  the  palaces 
exhibit  to  the  gazer  moving  past,  a  large  hall,  supported  partly 
on  columns,  leading  to  an  alcove,  or  court,  surrounded  by  ar 
cades,  the  arches  of  which  are  supported  upon  columns.  Flights 
of  marble  steps  lift  themselves  far  up ;  and  above  and  beyond 
is  a  great  stair-case  rising  on  each  hand,  and  frequently  further 
beyond  is  a  small  garden,  shaded  by  oranges,  and  sprinkled 
with  the  spray  and  voiceful  with  the  music  of  fountains. 

We  have  not  as  yet  visited  the  interior  of  any  palace,  though 
we  have  of  some  of  the  churches.  Our  first  visit  was  to  the 
Duomo,  or  Cathedral,  built  in  the  eleventh  century.  How  dif 
ferent  are  these  churches  in  Italy,  from  Westminster  or  Ndtre 
5 


gg  THE  HOME  OF  COLUMBUS. 

Dame.  These  latter  seem  to  be  mouldering.  Owing  to  the 
softer  material  and  a  northern  clime,  they  must  of  necessity 
first  yield.  To  all  appearance,  the  Duomo  is  as  young  as  ever. 
It  is  of  black  and  white  marble,  and  is  altogether  out  of  shape. 
Only  one  tower  is  built  where  the  taste  calls  for  two.  Through 
out  the  church  there  is  illustrated  the  Genoese  medley.  The 
aisles  and  naves  are  separated  by  fine  Corinthian  columns,  con 
nected  by  pointed  arches  of  Gothic,  and  bearing  a  horizontal 
entablature ;  above  which  is  an  arcade  supported  by  columns 
and  piers.  The  same  black  and  white  marble  appears  within. 

We  are  allowed  to  go  within  the  choir.  The  seats  are  finely 
inlaid  with  musical  instruments.  A  bronze  Madonna  and  child, 
by  BIANCHI.  decorates  the  altar.  After  examining  the  two 
finest  paintings  (for  in  such  a  display  of  canvass  and  configura 
tion  one  must  select),  we  did  not  enter,  and  did  not  see  the  re 
mains  of  John  the  Baptist,  which  are  contained  in  the  chapel 
dedicated  to  him.  The  chapel  is  elegant  enough,  with  its  four 
porphyry  pillars,  and  a  sarcophagus  to  contain  the  relics ;  while 
a  splendid  shrine  of  Gothic  panels,  tracery,  and  finicals  of  the 
most  exquisite  kind,  is  inscribed  with  his  history. 

There  are  several  apocryphal  relics  in  this  church,  as  in  most 
of  the  Italian  churches.  The  prominent  one  is  the  Catino,  a 
vessel  said  to  be  a  gift  to  Solomon  by  his  ancient  admirer — she 
of  Sheba  ;  and  also  said  to  be  the  dish  which  held  the  paschal 
lamb  at  the  last  supper  ;  and  -also,  to  be  the  identical  dish  which 
Joseph  of  Arimathea  used  to  catch  the  blood  from  the  bleeding 
«ide  of  our  Saviour.  This  relic  was  never  permitted  to  be  seen. 
Some  sceptical  Germans,  however,  got  access  to  it.  and  discover 
ed  it  to  be,  instead  of  a  single  emerald,  as  was  told,  a  dish  of 
ordinary  glass  ! 

But  we  cannot  enumerate  the  items  of  interest,  sacredly 
hoarded  up  in  these  churches.  One  old  relic — which  I  could 
swear  to — is  a  rescript  in  almost  illegible  Latin,  to*  Constantine 
the  Great,  which  is  inlaid  in  the  wall,  and  is  no  doubt  coeval 
with  that  monarch. 


THE  HOME  OF  COLUMBUS.  99 

We  leave  the  Duomo  with  its  niches,  twisted  columns  and 
mixed  architecture,  black  and  white  marble,  with  not  one  idea 
of  unity  and  order.  It  has  not  the  simplicity  in  variety,  which 
in  the  Gothic  so  charms  the  senses  and  awes  the  soul,  by  the 
association  with  Infinity.  The  other  churches  are  less  medley, 
but  somewhat  the  same  impression  is  left.  On  our  first  enter 
ing  the  ungainly-looking  church  of  Saint  Sira,  a  perfect  blaze  of 
painting  and  richness  arrested  our  sight.  It  seemed  thronged 
with  great  masses  of  the  pencil's  populace.  Angels  and  saints  in 
white  marble  relieved  the  eye  below  ;  and  after  ranging  up  over 
the  frescoed  vaults,  the  sight  found  relief  in  a  huge  dome,  still 
painted,  but  which  opened  to  another  dome,  through  which 
seemed  hastening  up  to  heaven  the  winged  aspirants  to  the 
upper  air,  bearing  through  it  a  garlanded  cross  !  The  concep 
tion  of  this  group,  with  its  upward  flight  surrounded  by  forms 
of  beauty  all  too  lovely  for  earth,  was  only  rivalled  by  the  ge 
nius  which  executed  it.  Forty  marble  columns,  and  all  the 
apostles  and  prophets  in  marble,  gave  us  the  idea  of  profusion 
without  beauty,  and  maze  without  form.  The  associations  con 
nected  with  this  church  are  the  best  part  of  it.  Here  in  the 
fifteenth  century  was  BOCCANEGRA  created  the  first  Doge  of 
Genoa,  amid  cries  of  u  vive  il  popolo"  Here  the  eternal  right 
of  popular  supremacy  was  asserted  and  embodied  in  him,  whose 
fine  form  we  just  witnessed  in  the  Ducal  palace.  The  Genoese 
treasure  his  memory.  Indeed  foreigners  who  think  the  Genoese 
have  no  liberty,  or  resemble  the  other  Italian  cities,  greatly  err. 
I  do  not  wonder  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  present  year 
(1852)  Austria  has  made  the  insolent  demand  to  have  troops 
stationed  in  the  arsenals  of  Sardinia.  Sardinia  is  a  constitu 
tional  monarchy  to  be  sure  ;  but  her  councils  represent  the 
people  and  control  the  State.  Books  of  the  republican  class 
nre  unrestrictedly  circulated  and  sold  here  ;  while  at  Naples  all 
books,  from  the  Bible  and  Shakspeare  down  to  the  latest  French 
squib,  are  forbidden.  Education  in  Genoa  is  a  high  object  of 
public  interest.  I  asked  a  merchant  to-day  in  Goldsmith  street, 


100  THE  HOME  OF  COLUMBUS. 

how  it  happened  that  so  many  of  the  people  spoke  English.  He 
responded  that  the  course  of  instruction  in  the  public  schools 
was  most  thorough,  including  French,  German  and  English. 
It  is  getting  to  be  a  great  mark  of  nobility  on  the  continent  to 
speak  English.  We  are  in  for  that  rank,  finding  it  more  easy 
than  French.  Custom  is  mighty. 

We  visited  the  Ducal  palace  and  the  chamber  of  the  grand 
council.  It  is  pillared  and  frescoed  off  finely ;  while  ranged 
around,  are  the  casts  of  statues  which  formerly  stood  in  marble 
in  the  same  niches,  but  which  during  Bonaparte's  time,  were 
thrown  from  their  pedestals.  The  city  has  n<5t  yet  lost  the  tra 
ces  of  the  French.  It  was  held  by  Massena  for  a  long  period,  while 
besieged  even  to  the  starvation  point  by  the  Austrians. 

We  also  visited  other  churches  in  Genoa.  They  bear  the 
same  general  appearance  as  the  Duomo  ;  a  style  resembling  the 
Arabian,  or  Saracenic  commingled  with  the  Gothic.  In  all, 
there  is  the  same  blaze  of  fresco,  which,  owing  to  the  peculiar 
manner  of  the  incorporation  of  the  color  with  the  lime  in  its  wet 
state,  gives  out  a  lustre  more  brilliant  than  oil.  The  columns 
are  of  marble — red,  white,  and  spotted ;  some  of  them  spiral. 
The  Church  of  the  Annunciation  gleams  with  fretted  gold. 
We  noticed  there,  a  fine  painting  of  St.  Francis  dreaming  of  his 
Bride,  Poverty,  with  the  angels  surrounding  the  slumberer.  Al 
so,  a  painting  of  the  Last  Supper.  We  could  not  begin  to 
describe  or  criticise  the  paintings.  Our  only  mode  is  to  fix 
upon  a  few  gems  and  study  them.  To  run  the  eye  over  fine 
paintings,  as  we  must  do,  is  but  to  tickle  the  optic  nerve  for  a 
moment.  It  leaves  no  impress  upon  the  memory.  After  going 
through  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria — which  is  unlike  all  others, 
being  purely  white  within  and  without ;  after  passing  through 
the  Church  of  the  Jesuits,  wherein  fresco  and  tracery,  substance 
and  shadow,  arc  intermingled  so  as  to  be  confounded  ;  after  listen 
ing  to  the  monotone  of  the  chanting  Franciscans,  seeing  the 
strange  confessional  with  its  penitent  trembling  at  the  ear-hole 
of  the  Father  ;  after  being  shown  about  by  sly  Italian  priests, 


TILE  HOME  OF  COLUMBUS.  101 

until  seeing  and  hearing  became  a  burden,  we  ascended  the  hills 
and  found,  oh  !  how  grateful  a  relief,  in  the  promenades  and  vil 
las  above  the  city. 

Let  me  give  you  a  single  description.  Uno  disce  omnia.  A 
long  promenade  hedged  with  telio,  and  winding  about  orange 
groves  and  fountains,  led  us  to  a  flight  of  steps.  Having  ascend 
ed  we  were  immediately  in  the  midst  of  numerous  fountains  in 
artificial  grottoes.  Above,  are  clinging  to  the  rocks  and  bared 
to  the  sight,  the  smooth  twisted  roots  of  the  fig-trees.  We  as 
cend  at  this  vestibule  of  verdure,  through  arched  grape  vines,  and 
with  the  walls  skirted  with  roses  up — up — past  terraces  where 
in  are  growing  orange  trees,  full  of  golden  fruitage,  and  exceed 
ingly  tempting  to  larceny.  Here  we  stop  upon  a  variegated 
pebble  pave,  while  before  us  rises  a  yellow  and  white  marble 
palace.  Herein  resides  the  poet  and  owner,  the  Marquis  De 
Najora,  whom  we  are  informed  is  not  yet  arisen  from  his  slum 
bers.  Oh  !  luxurious  idler  and  dreamer.  All  this  paradise 
surrounds  thee,  but  to  woo  thee  to  repose  in  that  closed  cham 
ber.  But  it  is  of  no  use  to  moralize.  Ethics  must  bend  to 
beauty  ;  subjectivity  to  objectivity. 

All  around  the  palace,  amidst  the  foliage,  are  busts  of  the 
celebrated  Genoese,  among  whom  "  COLOMBO"  claims  my  first  re 
gard.  Around,  too,  are  cool,  large  grottoes  made  of  shells,  mir 
rors  and  spars.  Other  grottoes  are  frescoed  upon  the  walls  in 
mockery  of  the  cool  originals  near.  Paths  lead  .through  them 
and  up  to  a  higher  vantage  ground.  Can  it  be  possible  ?  Must 
there  be  a  higher  heaven  yet  ?  Stay  !  Here  is  a  name  that 
rivets  the  attention,  and  there  is  a  bust  familiar  as -an  American 
landscape.  Under  it  is  inscribed, 

"  ALL  A  MEMOEIA  DI  WASHINGTON." 

Canova  stands  near.  Below  his  bust  is  a  billiard  room.  Farther 
on  is  a  seat,  at  least  300  feet  above  the  city,  from  which  we  may 
grasp  Genoa  in  one  glance.  Near  by  upon  another  hill  is  a 


1 02  THE  h  OME  OF  COL  UME  US. 

large  fortification  in.  ruins, — the  result  of  the  popular  commotions 
of  1848.  Below  are  walks  and  trees  of  all  kinds.  The  pepper-tree 
near  the  japonica;  alche  trees  embracing  the  cypress  and  olive, 
lemons  and  figs ;  the  cerino  full  of  berries,  and  the  umbrageous 
fraschino.  Scattered  among  them  are  tall,  rare  Egyptian  palms. 

The  fresh  air  comes  up  freighted  with  a  rich  burden  of  fra 
grance.  All  around  the  bay  are  arranged  the  pyramidal  roofs 
of  the  superb  city,  varied  by  the  towers  and  steeples  of  the 
churches ;  while  the  bay  itself,  fretted  by  a  breeze  ever  so  light, 
emulates  the  cerulean  of  the  sky,  save  in  that  deep  ribbon  of 
blue  which  separates  the  rarer  from  the  denser  element.  Up 
rises  with  the  sound  of  voices  and  bells,  and  mingled  with  the 
song  of  birds  (we  mnst  be  faithful),  the  horrid,  infernal  music  of 
unhappy  donkeydom  ! 

We  had  better  seek  another  spot.  If  you  are  dainty  about 
treading  on  lizards,  you  may  let  me  lead.  Here,  upon  the 
north-east,  we  have  another  view — a  full  sweep  of  the  valley 
beyond  Genoa.  Yonder  in  that  grove  is  the  house  where  Byron 
lived  for  two  years.  It  might  well  awaken  the  poet's  soul  to 
gaze  up  and  down  this  valley  of  terraces  and  palaces.  Beneath 
us  is  the  plash,  almost  roar  of  waters.  It  is  the  aqueduct,  so 
constructed  as  to  empty  its  silver  vein  into  a  basin  below,  and 
apparently  out  of  a  grove.  Trembling  in  its  spray  are  oranges. 
Far  above  us  even,  rise  other  gardens  and  palaces,  similar  to 
this ;  and  far  above  them  are  the  eternal  hills  bare  and  comfort 
less.  Now  we  may  descend  among  flower  vases,  gum-elastic 
trees  and  roses,  into  the  open  street,  to  meet  again  the  ever 
lasting  beggar  of  Italy.  Whine  away,  poor  human  nature  !  it 
is  your  brother,  made  of  the  same  mortal  clay  with  yourself, 
who  holds  that  regal  palace,  adorned  with  art,  and  garnitured 
by  nature.  False  to  the  memory,  and  recreant  to  the  hope  of 
Italy,  he  sleeps  in  ignoble  ease,  while  the  garden  of  Europe 
holds  within  its  enclosure  a  degraded,  begging  and  outcast  popu 
lation,  whose  rulers  are  serfs  to  Austria,  or  puppets  of  France. 
There  are  at  least  two  thousand  people  now  in  the  public 


THE  HOME  OF  COLUMBUS.  103 

poor-house  of  Genoa,  and  God  only  knows  how  many  more  ought 
to  be  thus  provided  for.  If  beauty  and  art  must  flourish  in 
these  palaces  and  gardens  at  such  an  expense  of  misery,  let  the 
axe  fall  at  the  root  of  the  poisonous  tree,  that  its  exhalations 
may  no  longer  taint  the  mild  air  of  this  heaven-kissed  clime.  Let 
your  marbles  be  overturned  ;  your  Correggios  and  Guides  be  cut 
into  ribbons ;  your  frescos  be  whitewashed,  and  your  soil  of 
beauty  indurated  for  ever. 

But  this,  we  thank  the  Creator  of  the  Beautiful,  is  not  the 
sacrifice  required.  He  who  made  the  fair  so  near  akin  to  what 
is  good  5  who  gives  immortality  to  both  by  the  same  law  of  his 
will,  requires  only  the  sacrifice  of  lustful  power  and  absurd 
pomp. 

We  spent  the  last  few  hours  of  to-day  in  passing  through 
some  of  the  superb  palaces,  whose  outside  we  yesterday  saw. 
The  Salle  palace  is  perhaps  the  richest  in  its  collection  of  paint 
ings,  although  it  had  no  golden  room  like  another  we  visited. 
Vandykes,  llubens,  De  Vincis,  Paolis,  Guidos,  and  others,  line 
the  resplendent  walls ;  while  the  never-failing  fresco  and  statue 
meet  you  at  every  side-glance.  One  painting  among  them  all 
I  now  remember  distinctly.  It  is  here  for  ever  engraved.  It 
is  Tasso  in  the  mad-house,  at  the  foot  of  llubens,  while  Mon 
taigne,  the  French  philosopher,  stands  near.  The  expression  of 
the  pale,  woe-stricken  poet,  with  his  lofty  sorrow  and  half  maniac 
glare,  as  he  kneels  to  be  released  by  his  visitors,  has  the  very 
soul  of  Melancholy,  not  yet  lost  to  Despair.  It  seemed  to  me, 
that  in  this  picture  I  beheld  the  fate  of  Italy.  Images  of  poetic 
grandeur  surround  her ;  the  Past  beckons,  and  invites  her  to 
search  its  repository  for  the  influence  of  Example  ;  the  Future 
is  lit  up  with  hopes  as  beautiful  as  the  angels  which  float  upon 
her  painters'  canvass ;  but  the  spell  'of  Despair  hovers  near 
where  Melancholy  is  already^seated.  Oh  !  that  the  glorious 
soul  of  Massini  might  be  created  under  the  "  ribs  of  death," 
which  are  even  now  visible  beneath  the  rich  vesture  that  nature 
has  bestowed  upon  Italy  ! 


Enme, — lining  nni  Jtaii. 

"Hail  to  the  great  Asylum ! 
Hail  to  the  hill-tops  seven  ! 
Hail  to  the  firo  which  burns  for  aye! 
And  the  shield  which  fell  from  heaven  1" 

Macaulay'a  Lays. 

I. LEGHORN    TO    ROME. 

AFTER  leaving  Genoa,  we  resumed  our  career  over  the  deep 
blue  of  the  Mediterranean  and  touched  at  .Leghorn,  where 
we  left  our  good  company,  Mrs.  Stephens.  We  delayed  long 
enough  to  see  all  that  Leghorn  could  show,  which  is  little  more 
than  a  statue  with  four  ugly  pirates  chained — a  local  monument, 
representing  an  incident  in  the  history  of  the  city  worthy  of  the 
best  Roman  days.  The  son  of  a  Doge  was  sent  after  a  Corsair, 
whose  piratical  adventures  were  the  scourge  of  the  sea.  He 
was  victorious,  and  in  the  flush  of  success,  hesitated  not  to  break 
the  quarantine  laws  of  Genoa,  by  entering  port  in  disregard  of 
their  provisions,  the  penalty  of  which  was  death.  He  suffered 
the  penalty.  The  Doge's  justice  did  not  yield  to  the  paternal 
yearning.  The  monument  supported  by  four  pirates  attests  at 
once  the  valor  of  the  victim  and  the  impartial  rigor  of  the  law 
and  its  executive. 

We  visited,  pioneered  by  some  whole-souled  American  offi 
cers  of  the  U.  S.  steamship  Mississippi,  which  lies  here,  the 
grave  of  TOBIAS  SMOLLETT,  the  Novelist  and  Historian.  It  is  a 
simple  pyramid  in  the  Presbyterian  burying  ground,  enclosed  by 
iron,  around  which  flags  and  flowers  grow,  and  snails  crawl. — 
We  then  went  aboard  the  noble  steamer ;  and  truly  we  were 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  105 

proud  of  our  country  and  its  foreign  service.  We  were  so  fortu 
nate  as  to  visit  the  Mississippi,  during  a  visit  of  the  Commodore 
(MORGAN),  and  were  received  most  cordially  by  all.  The  ship 
was  about  to  proceed — where  no  one  knew  but  the  Commodore 
and  Captain  ;  but  it  was  generally  thought  that  KOSSUTH  and 
his  companions  were  the  object  of  the  voyage  East ;  and  then 
(how  they  gladdened  at  the  thought !)  for  HOME  ! 

At  Leghorn  there  is  little  to  be  seen.  It  is  a  large  trading 
port.  There  is  here  little  of  Art  or  Beauty.  The  city  is  of  re 
cent  origin,  having  been  founded  in  the  fifteenth  century.  Fer 
dinand  the  first,  one  of  the  Medici,  encouraged  Moors,  Jews, 
persecuted  Catholics  from  England,  and  others  to  come  to  Leg 
horn,  where  he  granted  them  the  equal  privileges,  which  their 
descendants  now  enjoy.  Leghorn  is  a  free  port ;  by  which  is 
meant  a  port  where  the  custom-house  bleeds  you  freely ;  even 
charging  heavily  for  the  privilege  of  landing. 

We  met  on  board  the  Mississippi  steamship,  which  was 
lying  here,  POWERS,  the  sculptor  ;  and  had  the  delight  of  his 
acquaintance,  with  a  promise  of  its  continuance  at  Florence. 
He  had  come  down  for  the  purpose  of  sending  off  his  son  to 
West  Point.  He  was  carelessly  dressed,  and  hid  beneath  a 
"  round-headed  "  felt,  a  rotund,  pleasant  face,  and  an  intelligent, 
large  eye  of  rare  brightness. 

A  lady  companion  not  unknown  in  the  literary  world,  whose 
opinion  is  generally  entitled  to  authority  in  matters  of  art,  does 
not  (as  do  most  Americans,  and  all  Italians)  rank  POWERS  as 
the  equal  of  many  other  American  sculptors,  and  simply  because 
his  chief  work,  the  Slave,  does  not  express  the  high-souled  in 
dignation  and  flashing  scorn,  or  the  exquisite  distress  which  a 
female,  situated  as  the  slave  is  supposed  to  be — should  exhibit. 
In  this  criticism,  the  most  beautiful  and  truthful  principle  is 
disregarded,  not  alone  in  my  humble  judgment,  but  in  that  of 
the  best  writer  upon  aesthetics  known  in  the  realm  of  criticism, 
the  German  LESSING.  In  his  "  Laocoon,"  he  seems  to  have  had 
in  his  eye,  the  very  form  of  the  Slave,  with  its  noble  simplicity 


106  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

and  sublime  patience  under  indignity,  and  to  have  answered  just 
the  objection  above  made.  "  As  the  depth  of  the  sea  remains 
forever  quiet,  however  the  surface  may  rage,  so  the  expression 
in  the  figure  discovers  in  the  midst  of  Passion  a  great  and  calm 
soul."  Is  not  this  the  attitude  and  expression  of  the  Slave? 
Where,  in  all  the  array  of  art  in  that  Crystal  Palace,  can  be 
found  such  quiet  grandeur,  such  nameless  simplicity  of  distress  ? 
— After  the  eye  had  palled  with  gazing  on  the  gauds  of  the  In 
dies  and  the  south  of  Europe,  I  invariably  found  the  heart 
(which  has  a  reason  of  its  own)  impelling  me  toward  the  Slave ; 
there  to  dwell  in  silence  upon  the  beautiful  result  of  that  genius 
which  gleamed  in  the  piercing  eye  of  our  American  POWERS. 
The  idea  of  the  sculptor  is  not,  as  the  objector  must  erroneous 
ly  assume,  to  follow  nature  ;  but  his  ideal  projected  from  nature 
into  the  plastic  air  of  his  imagination.  The  Slave,  if  it  were 
distorted  with  distress  or  wrought  into  an  agony  of  indignation, 
would  lose  its  auricle  of  calm  glory,  which  ever  shines  in  the 
subduing  influence  of  the  soul  over  the  body. 

We  saw  and  passed  the  Isle  of  Elba,  only  notable  for  being  the 
prison  of  greatness  ;  and  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  June,  found 
us  in  Uie  harbor  of  Civita  Vecchia,  surrounded  by  massive  walls. 
The  place  is  distinguished  for  nothing  except  that  it  is  the  gate 
to  Rome.  The  vexations  of  the  custom-house  are  not  so  ter 
rific  as  is  imagined.  We  have  found  gentlemen  in  the  officers. 
Let  the  traveller  remember,  especially  if  a  lady,  that  the  want 
of  baggage  is  the  greatest  relief.  Our  ladies  absolutely  left  all 
their  trunks  at  Paris,  and  with  a  carpet  bag  apiece,  have  passed 
easily  all  barriers,  and  penetrated  into  the  Eternal  City. 

2.  APPROACH  TO  ROME. 

The  road  from  Civita  Vecchia,  which  we  traversed  by  a  dil 
igence  conducted  by  a  bob-coated  bandit  of  a  postillion,  lies 
mostly  along  the  sea.  The  country  resembles  Ohio  in  its  roll 
ing  hills  and  wheat  covered  fields.  Harvest  time  on  all  sides 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  107 

made  the  country  seein  busy.  The  road  was  lined  with  great 
loads  of  hay  moving  to  Rome,  drawn  by  beautiful  cattle,  with 
long  polished  horns  and  distended  nostril — worthy  to  be  sacri 
ficed  to  Jupiter  himself.  We  passed  several  old  ruins,  and 
among  the  rest  the  Egyptian  tumuli,  at  Monterone,  which  were 
opened  by  the  Duchess  of  Sermoneta,  in  1838.  They  are  now 
closed  again.  Vases  were  found  ornamented  with  the  lotus,  and 
painted  ostrich  eggs  were  not  wanting.  We  also  passed  the  Cae- 
ritis  Amnis,  rendered  classical  by  Virgil,  as  well  as  other  pla 
ces  of  historic  interest.  The  rich  twilight  of  antiquity  began 
to  gloom  about  the  old  towers  and  castles,  which  ever  and  anon 
we  perceived  upon  the  sea-coast.  Especially  should  be  remem 
bered,  the  polygonal  walls  of  a  Pelasgic  temple,  near  the  pictu 
resque  fortress  of  Santa  Sevaia,  which  was  once  the  head-quar 
ters  of  the  Tyrrhenian  pirates. 

As  we  approach  Rome,  these  interesting  relics  increase. 
The  very  dust  which  flies  in  our  faces  is  without  doubt  as  sacred 
as  it  is  unpleasant.  For  the  distance  of  twenty  miles  before  we 
reached  Rome,  St.  Peter's  lofty  dome  hung  its  conspicuous  archi 
tecture  in  mid  air ;  and  what  was  so  strange,  although  we  saw 
it,  as  it  were  a  half  mile  off,  we  did  not  approach  seemingly 
any  nearer.  Indeed  we  never  suspected  it  to  be  the  marvel  of 
Michael  Angelo,  until  within  a  few  miles  of  Rome,  when  the 
certainty  flashed  upon  us,  that  it  must  be  St.  Peter's.  We  had 
thought  it  a  church  of  some  village  near ;  but  the  dome  of  the 
"  Pantheon  hung  in  air "  became  more  apparent,  and  by  this 
great  demonstration,  we  were  assured  that  it  was  Rome  itself 
we  saw !  I  doubt  if  there  can  be  any  feeling  more  tumultuous 
and  grand,  than  that  which  ushers  Rome  into  the  chambers  of 
the  vision  !  •  It  was  sunset  as  we  approached  the  Cavalleggieri 
gate  ;  and  before  we  entered  it  the  moon  had  assumed  her  mild 
sway,  casting  over  the  palaces  and  vineyards  which  lined  the 
Aurelian  way,  her 

"  wide  and  tender  light 

Which  softened  down  the  hoar  austerity 


!08  ROME,  LIVING  ASD  DEAD. 

Of  ragged  desolation,  and  filled 

As  't  were  anew,  the  gap  of  centuries ; 

Leaving  that  beautiful  which  still  was  so, 

And  making  that  so,  which  was  not,  till  the  place 

Became  religion,  and  the  heart  ran  over 

"With  worship  of  the  great  of  old." 

Can  this  be  the  fountain  of  Power,  almost  supernal  ?  Power, 
secular  in  the  past,  which  still  rules  our  spirits  "  from  its  urns  ;" 
Power  spiritual,  in  the  Present,  which  gives  the  canon  to  more 
than  the  half  of  Christendom  ! 

"We  passed  St.  Peter's,  with  its  colonnades,  and  its  deep 
shadows,  swelling  vast  and  beautiful  in  the  silver  sheen  of  the 
moon.  Driving  down  the  piazza  of  St.  Peter's,  we  recognized 
the  lofty  and  lonely  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  and  in  a  twinkling 
we  were  on  its  bridge,  the  old  Pons  Aelius,  and  the  Tiber  rolled 
beneath  !  We  could  not  discern  the  color  of  the  classic  stream. 
The  statues  upon  the  bridge  looked  grim  and  majestic !  This 
is  ROME  !  Not  the  foster  child  of  the  she-wolf;  for  ancient 
Rome  lies  at  the  extreme  south.  This  is  Rome  of  modern 
days,  whose  apostolical  rescripts  have  engaged  the  British  parlia 
ment  for  months.  This  is  the  powerless-powerful  Pontificate, 
whose  thunders  may  be  hushed  by  the  French  cannon  the  next 
hour,  but  whose  silent  authority  is  ministered  unto  by  thousands 
of  handmaid  churches  and  millions  of  devotees,  throughout  the 
world  ! 

After  passing  through  some  dirty,  miserable  streets,  we 
emerged  into  the  region  of  palaces,  darted  down  a  dark  avenue, 
and  drove  under  the  old  forum  of  Antoninus,  upon  whose  high, 
massive  roof  there  is  a  building  and  a  profusion  of  verdure, — 
and  which  is  now  used  as  a  custom-house.  While  undergoing  the 
customary  search,  we  observed  the  eleven  Corinthian  columns  of 
Greek  marble.  Some  of  the  old  architraves  are  preserved  ;  but 
the  bases  and  capitals  are  gone. 


ROME,  LIVING 'AND  DEAD.  1Q9 


3. — FRENCH  SOLDIERS. 

The  eternal  city  has  so  often  been  described,  and  its  every 
column  numbered,  that  it  would  be  gratuitous  in  me  to  attempt 
any  thing  of  the  kind. 

Thus  far  we  had  found  our  own  way,  without  the  aid  of 
swindling  guides,  but  here  they  are  necessary.  Not  only  guides 
in  the  human  shape  become  essential,  but  Murray  himself  began 
to  compensate  us  for  lugging  him  about.  In  the  latter  is  found 
every  spot  of  classical  association ;  and  to  undertake,  even  upon 
a  small  scale,  to  enumerate  these,  would  be  as  foolish  as  it  is 
impossible.  A  few  general  views  will  suffice.  These  shall  be 
taken  without  pedantry  and  without  color. 

There  is  one  object  connected  with  Home  that  intrudes  itself 
at  every  step.  It  is  the  French  soldier.  The  sound  of  brazen 
martial  music  now  reminds  me  of  him.  Pope  Pius  sleeps 
sweetly,  no  doubt,  under  the  everlasting  marching,  fifing  and 
tooting  of  the  soldier.  I  understood  that  some  time  ago  he 
sent  word  to  the  French  commandant,  that  the  city  was  in  good 
order  and  quietude  ;  but  France  was  as  obtuse  as  an  adder  to 
the  hint.  Why1?  Austria  was  pouring  her  soldiers  into  Tus 
cany,  and  it  was  feared  that  Rome  was  their  final  destination. 
The  Pope  and  Cardinals,  it  is  said,  even  second  the  efforts  of 
the  Republicans  in  order  that  they  may  be  free  from  the  French 
rule.  There  are  now  in  this  city  over  eight  thousand  French 
soldiers,  and  ten  thousand  more  are  expected.  They  infest 
galleries,  churches,  gates,  villas  and  palaces.  Rome  seems 
destined  by  the  Almighty  to  answer  for  her  past  sins  in  the 
triple  exactions  of  a  military,  ecclesiastical  and  civil  domination. 
It  was  here  that  the  nations  of  old,  including  ancient  Gaul,  lost 
their  liberty,  and  it  is  here  the  nations,  including  present  Gaul, 
now  appear  to  enslave  Rome  herself. 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 


4. — THE  CAPITOL  VIEW. 

Passing  through  long  lines  of  soldiery,  we  direct  our  course 
to  Capitol  Hill.  From  its  tower,  the  general  survey  of  the  city 
should  first  be  made.  It  stands  between  the  new  or  Ecclesias 
tical  Rome,  and  the  old  or  Pagan  Rome ;  between  the  living 
and  the  dead.  This  point  is  peculiarly  appropriate  and  thrilling 
for  a  first  view.  It  was  here  that  GIBBON  sat,  when  he  contem 
plated  the  august  relics  of  former  glory ;  and  saw  starting  from 
behind  each  fragmentary  pillar  or  arch,  the  mysterious  influence 
of  Deity,  writing  the  history  of  the  nations.  It  was  here  that 
he  first  conceived  the  idea  of  writing  the  "decline  and  fall"  of 
that  city,  the  closing  scene  of  whose  magnificent  career  he  de 
scribes  as  the  "  most  awful  in  the  annals  of  mankind." 

At  the  base  of  the  hill,  on  either  side  of  the  long  flight  of 
steps  which  have  often  been  ascended  by  kneeling  friars,  is  a 
fountain.  The  colossal  Gemini  are  at  the  top  of  the  flight,  and  a 
colossal  bronze  of  Aurelius,  on  horseback,  in  the  centre.  On 
your  left  is  the  temple  of  Jupiter,  which,  like  most  of  the  ancient 
ruins,  is  converted  from  Paganism  to  Christianity.  You  find 
yourself,  after  many  windings,  in  the  tower.  From  the  eastern 
view,  immediately  below,  is  the  Forum,  the  spot  which  was 
once  the  heart  of  ancient  Rome.  The  artist,  upon  the  subse 
quent  page,  gives  some  idea  of  its  position  and  appearance.  It 
was  here  that  Hortensius  and  Tully  spoke,  and  winged  words 
flew  to  the  hearts  of  thousands  through  the  same  blue  atmosphere 
which  now  surrounds  these  broken  columns.  Even  yet, 

"The  immortal  accents  glow, 

And  still  the  eloquent  air  breathes,— burns  with  Cicero!  " 

The  temple'  of  Vespasian,  now  only  three  columns ;  the  arch 
of  Septimus  Severus,  with  its  strange  configurations;  the  temple 
of  Jupiter— the  Thunderer — are  seen;  and  further  on,  down 
the  Sacra  Via,  on  every  side  are  irregular  piles  of  ruins ;  tow- 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  \  \  \ 

ering  up  sublimely  among  which,  like  a  crown  upon  the  hoary 
head  of  antiquity,  is  the  Coliseum.  On  the  right,  the  eye  is 
absorbed  by  the  immense  ruins  of  the  palace  of  the  Caesars, 
utterly  misshapen  and  haggard,  clothed  with  rank  grass,  and 
opening  by  damp  vaults  underneath.  It  is  not  unworthy  of  the 
description  of  Byron,  who  saw  it  covered  with  cypress  and  ivy 
matted  together ;  with  hillocks  heaped  upon  what  were  cham 
bers,  with  its  arches  and  columns  crushed  into  fragments,  and 
nothing  left  but  the  name — "Imperial  Mount" — to  tell  how 
human  greatness  can  fall. 

As  we  stood  looking  upon  the  scene  below,  the  eye  ever  and 
anon  glancing  toward  the  Tiber  upon  the  right,  and  passing  in 
one  sweep  its  valley  of  relics,  we  could  repeat  almost  in  mockery 
the  gratulations  of  Macaulay's  lay,  at  the  head  of  our  chapter. 

Mockery  indeed,  if  we  recur  to  the  present.  What  a  mise 
rable  set  of  people — what  "  a  rakehelly  rout  of  ragged  rascals" — 
are  those  below;  some  laying  in  the  shadow  of  the  Arch  of  Titus; 
some  pitching  coppers  near  Constantino's  Basilica;  some  digging 
fishing-worms  near  the  Appian  Way ;  others  driving  miserable 
donkeys  and  ox-carts ;  others  working  in  the  ruins  for  relics ; 
and  others  making  ropes  upon  that  pathway  where  the  spoils  of 
the  cxtremest  east  and  west  were  paraded,  where  legions  of  vic 
torious  braves  marched  under  the  potential  eagle,  where  Sallust 
and  Livy,  Virgil  and  Horace  (jolly  old  Satirist !),  Marcellus 
and  Cato,  all  walked  and  talked,  and  where  the  fluent  sonorous 
ness  of  the  Latin  rung  upon  the  enchanted  air  and  made  Ora 
tory  immortal ! 

The  men  of  might  rise  from  these  gloomy  vaults  and  pass 
again  beneath  these  crumbling  arches  and  pillars — an  exceeding 
great  army.  History  gives  up  its  dead,  even  in  the  midst  of 
temples  desecrated  by  the  smell  of  fish  and  the  meanest  of 
offices.  Theatres  loom  grandly,  even  though  converted  into 
stables  :  and  mausoleums  and  palaces  rise  far  into  the  glistening 
air,  although  Stefano  has  therein  a  blacksmith  shop,  or  Michael 
sells  in  them  cabbages  to  poor  Franciscans.  What  are  all  these 


112  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

sacrileges?  Are  we  not  in  the  proud  capitol  of  that  metropolis 
of  which  Julian  said — "  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  (known)  earth 
belong  to  her ;"  and  of  which  Claudius  could  truly  say,  that  she 
was  the  fountain  of  all  laws  ?  Was  it  not  here  that  the  North 
ern  conquerors  of  Rome  placed  supreme  power  in  the  hands  of 
a  poor  pastor,  whose  prerogative  grew  so  glorious  and  powerful, 
that  Charlemagne  ascended  the  steps  of  St.  Peter's  to  acknow 
ledge  it ;  and  which  seemed  in  outward  splendor,  as  it  was  in 
real  power,  the  visible  vicegerency  of  God  upon  earth?  Can 
we  not  discern,  in  the  present  abasement  of  that  power,  the  hand 
of  Him  who  is  the  author  of  all  history ;  whose  arm  overturns 
the  proudest  steeds  of  Pompey  and  the  columns  of  Trajan,  the 
finest  marbles  of  Aurelius  and  Augustus,  and  the  most  magnifi 
cent  arch  of  the  greatest  Caesar  ?  It  is  worth  while  to  come 
from  the  Western  world,  to  see  how  GOD  ALMIGHTY  writes  his 
tory,  in  which  nations  come  and  go,  as  rainbows.  Truly,  Italy 
is  a  conspicuous  chapter  in  that  momentous  history ;  but  is  it 
all  written  ?  Would  that  her  people  could  obey  the  inspiration 
of  Massini : — "  Give  to  Italy  your  thought,  your  counsel,  and 
your  blood.  liaise  it  up  great  and  beautiful,  as  foretold  by  your 
great  men. — Let  it  be  one,  as  the  thought  of  GOD  !  You  are 
twenty-four  millions  of  men,  endowed  with  active,  splendid 
faculties,  with  a  tradition  of  glory — the  envy  of  the  nations  of 
Europe.  Your  eyes  are  raised  to  the  loveliest  heaven,  and 
around  you  smiles  the  loveliest  land  of  Europe.  You  are  encir 
cled  by  the  Alps  and  the  sea — boundaries  marked  out  by  God, 
for  an  army  of  giants.  And  you  must  be  such,  or — nothing  ! " 

Shall  it  be  nothing  ?  When  such  sentiments  can  be  thus 
uttered,  is  there  no  hope  ?  Is  man  here  but  the  insect  caught 
in  the  unyielding  amber  of  an  infallible  theocracy?  Shall 
Popery,  the  joint  tool  of  France  and  Austria  so  long,  and  soon, 
we  trust,  to  be  the  tool  of  neither,  for  ever  crush  the  energies  of 
myriads  of  human  beings?  We  will  not  cease  to  hope  for  the 
people.  The  reign  of  Injustice  is  not  eternal — it  feeds  upon  its 
own  black  heart.  Dark  though  seems  the  prospect,  we  will 
strike  up  the  cheering  song : — 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  U3 

"  When  wilt  thou  save  the  people  ? — 

Oh  God  of  mercy,  when  ? 
Not  kings  and  lords,  but  nations — 

Not  thrones  and  crowns,  but  men  ? 
Shall  crime  breed  crime  for  ever  ? 

Strength  aiding  still  the  strong — 
Is  it  thy  will?  Oh,  Father! 
No !  say  the  mountains ;  No !  the  skies ; 
Man's  clouded  sun  shall  brightly  rise, 
And  songs  ascend,  instead  of  sighs, — 
GOD  SAVE  THE  PEOPLE  !  " 

5.   OUR  CONSUL  AND  THE  VILLAS. 

There  is  no  keener  delight  while  travelling  abroad,  than 
that  which  follows  a  meeting  of  friends  and  Americans.  Espe 
cially  is  it  the  case,  when  these  friends  have  opportunities  of 
unfolding  the  mysteries  which  perplex  the  sojourner.  Our 
Consuls  have  it  in  their  power  to  endear  themselves  to  their 
fellow-countrymen,  in  a  peculiar  manner.  Not  that  they  all 
do  this  ;  by  no  means.  As  to  our  charge  at  Rome,  Mr.  CASS, 
we  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  publicly  the  gratitude  of 
our  hearts,  for  the  urbane  and  cordial  manner  with  which  he 
has  received  and  aided  us.  He  is  well  beloved  at  Rome  by  all. 
Even  now  at  his  house  there  is  a  young  American  from  Geor 
gia,  who  has  returned  from  Syria  with  the  fever,  receiving  the 
last  kind  offices  to  the  dying  from  our  warm-hearted  Consul. 
The  foreign  officers  of  our  government  should  all  be  such.  I 
regret  to  say  that,  at  some  points,  some  of  these  offices  are 
filled  with^  foreign  upstarts,  who  know  just  enough  of  English 
to  treat  you  cavalierly,  and  who,  in  comparison  with  our  good 
Consul  at  Rome,  deserve  no  mention,  unless  it  were  a  rebuke. 

Mr.  Cass  has  a  fine  gallery  of  paintings  and  sculpture. 
During  the  troublous  times  of  1848,  he  alone,  among  the 
foreign  Consuls,  remained.  As  money  was  scarce,  and  gems  of 
Art  plenty,  and  every  thing  precarious,  he  had  the  opportunity 


114  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

of  purchasing  the  works  of  the  masters  at  the  most  insignificant 
prices.  He  showed  me  a  Guido,  for  which  he  paid  five  dollars, 
and  for  which  he  could  now  obtain  hundreds.  Works  Jhat  he 
gave  hundreds  for,  would  now  be  fortunes  to  him,  were  he  dis 
posed  to  sell. 

Through  his  kindness  we  obtained  access  to  two  of  the  best 
villas  near  Rome,  that  of  the  Borghese,  and  that  of  the  Albani 
family. 

The  Borghese  was  formerly  the  great  promenade  of  Rome 
Its  park  was  even  superior  to  Hyde  ;  superior  because  it  was 
every  where  adorned  with  statues  of  the  finest  mould.  The 
commission  of  defence  against  the  French,  thought  proper  to 
upturn  and  destroy  some  of  the  finest  parts  of  this  villa ;  but 
the  works  of  Art  in  the  long  galleries  remain  untouched. 
These  galleries  are  entailed  and  descend  with  accretions  from 
age  to  age  in  the  same  family.  The  park  is  but  the  wreck  of. 
what  it  was  before  the  Revolution ;  but  even  now  it  is  a  miracle 
of  a  cool  and  beautiful  retreat.  One  peculiarity  of  these  villas 
is,  that  in  their  walls  are  placed  the  old  fragments  and  inscrip 
tions  which  once  adorned  the  ruins  about  the  Capitol.  They 
are  rare  and  weird  in  their  potency  over  the  mind ;  lulling  it 
into  a  sense  of  the  hallowed  past,  and  making  it  contempo 
rary  with  the  great  which  they  commemorate. 

6.  ITALIAN  ART. 

Every  where  in  these  villas  is  seen  form ;  here,  minute 
and  graceful ;  there,  colossal  and  awful ;  yonder,  fragmentary 
and  mournful.  But  every  where  is  form.  Why — (for  the  mind 
must  repose  amid  this  continuous  range  of  painting  and  statuary 
to  ponder  general  principles),  why  this  idolatry  of  the  Italian 

•mind,  to  form  ?  In  itself,  it  is  but  the  quality  of  a  material 
object.  It  cannot  be  destroyed,  however,  without  destroying 

.the  individual  subject  to  which  it  belongs.  Matter,  circum 
scribed  and  limited,  is  form  ;  and  to  be  beautiful  it  must  wave 


HOME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  115 

or  curve.  To  be  beautiful  in  the  highest  spiritual  sense, 
there  must  emanate  from  that  form  the  passions  of  life  in  all 
their  multiplied  variety.  The  highest  expression  of  passion 
may  be  represented  in  the  human  countenance,  and  this  ex 
pression  is  beautiful  in  a  threefold  sense ;  physically  beautiful, 
that  is,  independent  of  any  expression  of  character  ;  beautiful 
in  the  expression  of  some  permanent  and  distinctive  disposition; 
and  beautiful  in  the  expression  of  some  emotion  which  we  love 
or  approve.  The  union  of  all  produces  that  perfection  of  beau 
ty,  which  to-day  we  have  admired  in  the  Curtius  leaping  into 
the  Gulf;  in  the  Venus  of  Canova.  for  which  Pauline  Borghese, 
the  sister  of  Napoleon,  sat :  in  the  celebrated  Apollo  Sauroc- 
tones  of  Praxiteles,  considered  by  connoisseurs  the  most  exqui 
site  bronze  statue  in  the  world,  and  in  the  ever  young  and 
seraphic  Antinous,  crowned  with  lotus,  which,  next  to  the 
Laocoon  and  the  Apollo  Belvidere,  is  the  most  beautiful  monu 
ment  of  the  Elder  Art.  This  last  gem,  although  it  is  over  two 
thousand  years  old.  glances  in  its  white  radiance,  as  if  just  from 
the  hand  of  Grecian  genius.  These  last  two  pieces  are  in  the 
'Albani  galleries,  intermingled  with  a  host  of  lesser  beauties, 
and  surrounded  with  landscapes,  urns,  and  marble  pillars.  In 
viewing  them,  you  tread  over  mosaic  paves  of  delicate  work 
manship  ;  while  above  you,  look  down  multiform  beauties  in 
enduring  fresco  !  Out  of  the  fine  windows  are  leafy  prospects 
and  embowering  glades,  down  which  the  white  forms  of  Numa, 
Minos,  Virginius,  and  Scipio,  "  move  to  your  pausing  eye." 
Fountains  playfully  burst  into  the  warm  air,  and  tinkle  softly 
and  melodiously. 

We  depart  with  a  wondering,  almost  bewildered  mind.  How 
many  throbs,  wild  and  great,  have  followed  the  million  pencil- 
touches  and  chisel-strokes,  which  have  here  imaged  thought,  to 
vivify  the  future  !  How  many  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow  has 
genius  embodied,  not  of  the  ideal  only  but  of  the  real, — '"  all 
compact ;"  for  the  ideal  in  its  first  prompture  bounds  from  the 
ovum  of  the  real,  not  at  once  full-fledged,  but  with  the  elements 


116  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

of  aerial  life,  to  be  cultivated  by  classic  myth,  historic  deed, 
and  the  "  aims  and  triumphs  of  a  hero's  life."  The  material 
leaps  docile  into  the  arena  of  beauty,  under  the  idealizing  power 
of  Art.  The  stony  crypt  of  the  gray  past  is  penetrated,  and 
becomes  a  star-strewn  vault  where  imagination  may  gaze  into 
the  Infinite,  and  by  gazing,  learn  to  decorate  life  with  forms  of 
dreamlike  softness  and  heroic  grandeur. 

With  what  endless  repetition  does  beauty  enshrine  herself 
along  these  corridors  of  Art!  Here  all  Homer  is  embodied; 
there  the  .ZEneid  ;  and  further  on,  the  long  line  of  Roman 
Caesars  shine  upon  their  pedestals.  As  all  the  gods  of  all  na 
tions  came  to  Rome  and  were  absorbed  in  her  Mythology,  so 
they  were  all  represented  with  their  various  attributes,  acting 
in  the  sullen  stone,  and  speaking  from  the  dumb  canvas.  The 
phase  of  Beauty  here 

"  repeats  itself  for  ever. 


And,  repeated,  ever  pleases." 

There  is  one  statue  which  stands  in  the  loftiest  niche  of  my 
memory.  We  went  to  the  Church  of  St.  Peitro  to  see  it.  11 
is  the  MOSES  of  Michael  Angelo  !  It  is  colossal,  and  was  intended 
to  form  a  part  of  the  tomb  of  Julius  II.  Although  it  is  not 
surrounded  as  the  artist  expected,  yet  its  commanding  expres 
sion  and  majestic  mien  make  it  more  than  Olympian.  It  is  the 
leader  and  lawgiver  of  Israel.  He  has  seen  the  Ineffable  One 
upon  Sinai !  How  awful  and  sublime  is  that  terrific  front !  How 
meanly  and  indifferently  are  all  the  other  niches  of  the  church 
filled,  beside  this  great  work  of  the  greatest  of  Artists  !  The  beard 
and  horns  have  rendered  it  obnoxious  to  criticism ;  but  they  givt 
the  air  of  the  demi-god  to  the  majestic  marble.  It  may  be 
that  they  are  blemishes.  There  are  spots  even  upon  the  sun. 

Must  Genius  and  Poverty  ever  go  hand  in  hand  ?  In  the  lit 
erary  world  it  has  ever  been  thus.  In  a  national  point  of  view 
Italy  illustrates  it.  It  was  through  suffering,  that  the  brightest 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  117 

sons  of  earth  were  educated  into  the  priesthood  of  power.  The 
same  enthusiasm  which  worshipped  the  charms  of  the  Virgin 
soul — the  "  Perfume  of  Paradise," — yet  lingers  here  about  its  old 
haunts.  It  is  seen  upon  the  veriest  ox-cart,  whose  figure-head 
is  a  beauteous  Madonna.  It  shone  in  the  filagree  and  mosaic 
of  Italy  at  the  World's  Fair.  It  stares  you  in  the  face  at  every 
corner,  where  prints  and  paintings  are  exposed.  It  is  carried 
upon  the  cane-heads  of  the  merchant.  It  flows  in  the  fleecy 
veil  of  the  lady.  In  fine,  is  not  Italy  happily  likened  to  the 
magic  gift  possessed  by  the  girl  of  the  fairy  story,  who  dropped 
pearls  and  diamonds  at  every  opening  of  her  mouth,  to  the  sad 
detriment  and  loss  of  her  teeth,  those  homely  but  very  needful 
functions  of  speech  and  mastication  ! 

In  these  poor  ideas  about  Art,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  critical. 
I  have  neither  the  disposition,  nor  the  ability,  to  criticise  the 
great  works,  which  are  seen  but  to  be  admired  without  question. 
Universal  taste  has  stamped  its  signet  upon  them,  as  infallibly 
as  upon  the  Iliad  or  .ZEneid  ;  and  though  a  thousand  connois 
seurs  should  "  peep  at  them  with  the  rounded  hand,"  they 
would  still  shine  peerless  in  their  perfections,  and  permanent  in 
their  beauty. 

7.    COLISEUM  AND  ST.  PETER'S. 

The  finest  contrast  which  Rome  presents  is  the  Coliseum, 
and  St.  Peter's.  The  one  is  at  the  nadir,  the  other  at  the  zenith  ; 
the  one  was  dedicated  to  the  destruction  of  that  religion  which 
now  is  enshrined  in  the  other.  The  one  is  the  marvel  of  an 
tiquity  ;  the  other  is  the  wonder  of  modern  time.  One  was 
used  for  the  gratification  of  the  meanest  passions  ;  the  other  as 
the  temple  of  Him  who  taught  Peace  and  practised  Benignity. 
Indeed  the  contrast  might  run  on,  until  comprehended  at  last, 
in  this,  that  the  one  was  the  offspring  of  Pagan  power ;  and  the 
other  the  result  of  Christian  power. 

There  are  no  two  spots  upon  the  round  earth  so  full  of  inter 
est  It  may,  perhaps,  be  a  matter  of  pleasure  to  my  readers  to 


llg  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

hear  from  one  who  has  been  surrounded  by  influences  common 
to  both  writer  and  reader,  about  these  spots  of  celebrity,  and  the 
emotions  they  awaken. 

Before  reaching  the  Coliseum  you  pass  through  a  long  line 
of  ruins,  the  columns  of  which  are  still  standing,  and  out  of  the 
crevices  of  which  long  tufts  of  grass  and  flowers  grow.  The 
greatest  part  of  the  ruins  is,  however,  fifteen  feet  below  the 
ordinary  level ;  and  large  excavations  were  made,  in  order  to 
reach  the  marble  floors.  Many  of  the  columns  only  show  the 
capitals.  This  void  has  been  filled  simply  by  the  crumbling 
of  the  walls.  In  the  ruins  of  the  huge  arches  of  Constantine's 
Basilica,  great  fragments  have  fallen  some  two  hundred  feet 
from  the  roof,  and  have  been  moved  aside  to  accommodate  the 
goats  and  cows  which  herd  there. 

We  entered  the  beautiful  church  of  Santa  Francesca,  which 
is  built  upon  the  temple  of  Venus,  and  examined  the  floor.  It 
is  the  same  exquisite  mosaic  which  was  trod  by  the  devotees  of 
the  myrtle  in  the  time  of  Roman  luxury. 

Our  eyes  take  in  the  old  sites  of  at  least  fifty  temples  and 
theatres,  as  we  look  down  the  sacred  way  between  the  arches. 
On  the  right  hand  is  the  palace  of  the  Caesars,  now  owned  by  an 
Englishman,  Mr.  Mills.  (Oh!  Caesar,  where  are  your  wounds 
now,  and  where  is  your  Mark  Antony  to  preach  their  woe?)  who 
has  torn  down  the  little  shops  which  once  lined  the  way.  Work 
men  are  engaged  in  levelling  the  ground,  and  in  breaking  stone 
about  the  Coliseum.  Their  song  really  enlivens  the  dread  deso 
lation  of  the  scene.  An  old  fountain  called  Meta  Sudons  is 
near,  wherein  the  gladiators  were  wont  to  refresh  themselves 
after  the  labors  of  the  ring.  It  was  an  important  appendage  to 
the  Coliseum, — that  splendid  pile  of  irregular,  circular,  columnal 
ruins,  which  stand  out  the  most  perfect  of  the  relics  of  Old  Rome ! 
The  Coliseum  is  full  of  holes,  out  of  which  metals  have  been 
extracted ;  and  its  windows  serve  to  relieve  its  dim  arches  with 
wild  and  broken  light.  As  we  approach  it,  we  pass  the  Appiau 
Way,  the  only  refreshing  street  in  Rome.  Its  long  vistas  of 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  \  1Q 

trees  betoken  the  march  of  improvement  in  that  direction.  We 
approach  the  old  structure.  The  warder  unbolts  the  heavy 
gate.  We  pass  under  the  arches,  past  a  strange  fresco  of  Jeru 
salem  and  Calvary,  and  enter  the  interior ;  and  lo  !  tier  on  tier 
of  heavy  stone,  covered  with  green,  patched  with  brick  work,  and 
rising  up  into  a  huge  oval,  carved  out  from  the  clear  vault  of 
heaven,  a  great  sapphire  irregularly  round !  Birds  are  flying 
about  the  old  walls,  fig-trees  grow  here  and  there  ;  a  cross  stands 
in  the  middle  of  the  arena,  and  fourteen  statues  of  our  Lord's 
passion  are  placed  around  it.  Deep,  dark  dungeons,  in  which 
the  early  Christians,  prisoners,  and  wild  beasts  were  kept,  glooni 
about  the  place. 

The  amphitheatre  is  built  principally  of  travertine.  The 
external  elevation  consists  of  four  stories.  The  area  was  once 
nearly  sixty  acres.  There  were  four  tiers  of  seats  corresponding 
with  the  external  stories,  and  these  would  hold  87,000  specta 
tors  !  More  than  two-thirds  of  this  immense  building  has  been 
taken  down,  and  now  forms  part  of  the  palaces  of  Popes  and 
Cardinals.  The  Coliseum  was  built  by  Vespasian  in  the  year 
A.  D.  72.  Nearly  400  years  saw  it  the  scene  of  barbaric  spec 
tacles.  At  its  dedication,  5,000  wild  beasts  (heavens  !  what  a 
howling  there  must  have  been  !)  were  slain.  St.  Ignatius  here 
met  the  death  of  a  Christian  martyr ;  and  how  many  more  suf 
fered  in  this  same  den  of  devils,  history  amply  records.  It  has 
been  used  as  a  fortress,  a  woollen  factory,  then  as  a  saltpetre 
factory,  and  finally  sanctified  with  the  "  Pon.  Max"  upon  it,  and 
consecrated  to  the  memory  of  the  martyrs. 

A  stair-case  led  us  up  through  the  galleries  to  the  summit. 
The  view  from  one  of  the  "  rents  of  ruin"  is  fine.  The  temple 
of  Nero,  and  a  large  garden  of  flowering  pomegranates,  almonds 
and  figs,  fill  up  the  foreground ;  while  the  hills  of  Tivoli  are  spread 
out  under  a  delicate  haze  of  blue  in  the  distance.  The  splendid 
Basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran  lifts  its  fine  proportions  between. 
In  front,  we  look  across  the  Tiber  to  the  green  hills  of  the  Jani- 
culum,  where  Oudinot  and  Garibaldi  contested  for  the  city,  and 
left  the  marks  of  the  Vandal  upon  the  beauty  of  Art. 


120  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

Byron  describes  the  Coliseum  as  he  saw  it  by  moonlight, 
and  his  description  I  read  to  our  little  company,  from  off  a 
broken  seat  of 

"That  nohle  wreck  in  ruinous  perfection." 

We  expect,  if  we  can  venture  out  under  these  delusive  moon 
lights,  to  enjoy  the  dark  waving  of  the  trees  in  the  blue  mid 
night,  and  the  shine  of  the  stars  through  the  rough  old  windows 
and  recall  the  touching  pathos  of  that  marble  gladiator  of  the 
Capitol,  which  personates  the  prisoner  from  the  Danube,  leaning 
upon  his  hand  in  the  bloody  circus,  while  his  dizzy  brain  reels 
with  the  death  dance,  and  he  thinks  of  his  hut  upon  his  native 
stream,  and  his  Dacian  wife  and  young  barbarians  at  play !  The 
shout  of  thousands  rings  again  from  side  to  side,  in  this  vast 
arena,  as  in  fancy  I  see  the  gladiator  sink  beneath  the  blow 
of  the  kingly  beast.  Rome  had  here  her  holiday  ;  what  recked 
the  poor  slave's  life  ? 

Ah  !  different — far  different — is  Rome  now  !  To-day  I  heard 
before  the  assembled  Cardinals  and  Pope,  a  dark-skinned  Abys 
sinian—a  student  of  the  Propaganda — grow  eloquent  in  classic 
Latin,  over  the  mercy  and  love  of  that  Saviouj  whose  precepts 
teach  the  equal  right  of  all  to  live,  and  that — for  ever. 

I  am  now  called  away  to  see  the  Coliseum  by  moonlight. 
My  heart  bounds  to  behold  the  soft  radiance  of  Dian  flinging  its 
lustre  of  beauty  amid  the  rough  and  broken  shadows,  and  among 
the  enormous  crevices  and  flaws. 

We  are  returned.  The  dream  is  over.  Dream  ?  How  else 
could  float  in  the  soft  light  of  an  Italian  moon  such  a  stupendous 
miracle  of  beauty.  How  lonely  in  their  loveliness  the  surround 
ing  ruins  sleep  in  the  mellow  lustre  ! 

On  our  way,  we  stopped  a  while  before  the  column  and  forum 
of  Trajan,  to  admire  its  rounded  shaft,  with  its  colossal  figure 
and  its  broken  columns,  standing  like  sentinels  about  the  monu 
ments  of  the  Past.  The  arch  of  Severus,  the  temple  of  Jupiter 
Stator,  and  the  "  nameless  pillar  with  a  buried  base,"  stood  si- 


HOME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  121 

lent  as  the  tomb.  What  are  they,  but  the  tomb  of  buried 
power  ?  Their  gestures  point  backward  to  the  abyss  and  rear 
ward  of  time,  to  show  what  was,  and  what  must  be.  The  moon 
breaks  through  the  arches  of  Constantino's  Basilica,  and  glistens 
below  upon  the  fragments  which  have  fallen  from  the  aperture. 
Now  we  pass  under  the  arch  of  Titus ;  and  the  seven  golden 
candlesticks  are  lit  by  the  soft  luminousness,  and  reflect  evi 
dence  strong  as  holy  writ,  of  the  identity  of  the  arch  as  the 
memorial  of  the  conqueror  of  Jerusalem.  Blot  out  all  other 
records,  and  leave  these  candlesticks  and  this  moonlight,  by 
which  they  are  made  visible  ;  and  the  greatest  prophecy  of  old 
is  proven  by  stone  ! 

And  now  the  Coliseum  stands  confessed  in  her  garment  of 
moonlight,  the  perfect  ruin,  the  sublimest  structure  in  the  world! 
How  its  round  walls  glisten  !  Is  it  not  perfect?  Show  flaw  or 
rent  or  breach  now  ?  Doth  not  the  clear  shine,  wall  up,  with  its 
crystal  architecture,  each  crevice,  each  window,  each  rent?  Is 
not  this  material  of  richer  lustre  than  even  those  rare  gifts  of 
the  Pasha  of  Egypt  to  the  Pope — the  alabaster  pilasters  and 
columns  which  to-day  we  saw  at  St.  Paul's  ?  How  full  does  the 
night  scoop  out  of  the  huge  circle  its  arches  of  darkness  !  Hun 
dreds  of  these  arches  repeat  the  gloom  around  the  vast  circum 
ference.  The  great  area  is  chequered  with  irregular  lights  and 
shades,  playing  among  every  form,  and  rising  tall  and  dream 
like,  against  a  star-strewn  and  a  moonlit  heaven. 

Within  that  circle,  covering  six  acres,  how  much  has  been 
enacted  ;  of  sportive  savagery  and  noble  martyrdom,  how  much? 
Can  it  be  that  but  one-third  of  what  was  the  Coliseum  only  re 
mains  in  that  vast  pile  ?  Yes  ;  for  we  have  passed  to-night, 
palace  after  palace,  constructed  out  of  its  material  5  and  we  can 
see  that  the  outer  arches  have  been  peeled  off  (as  it  were)  time 
after  time  ;  yet  so  much  remains  that  the  imagination  reels  un 
der  the  vision. 

We  drove  around,  taking  in,  with  some  few  hundred  yards, 
a  small  segment  of  the  circle,  when  the  glisten   of  a  bayonet, 
G 


122  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

with  a  challenge  in  French,  '{  Stand  /"  reminded  us  that  even 
this  pride  of  Rome  was  humiliated  by  the  guard  of  foreign  sol 
diery.  Once  it  was  not  sov  Gods  !  If  the  old  Scipios.  within 
whose  dark  tombs  we  were  to-day,  could  only  "  revisit  the 
glimpses  of  the  moon"  to-night,  it  would  make  their  ghostly 
teeth  chatter  with  rage,  to  see  their  seven-hilled  city  under  the 
control  of  the  descendants  of  those  barbarians  who  formed  part 
of  their  triumphal  marches,  and  who,  perhaps,  to  grace  a  Roman 
holiday,  fought  the  beasts  of  that  Coliseum  which  their  de 
scendants  now  guard. 

We  turned  about.  Finally  we  found  admission  to  the  build 
ing.  The  walls  loom  up  much  higher  than  they  seemed  in  day 
light.  They  seemed  now  close  against  the  sky.  A  white  fleecy 
mantle  of  cloud  streams  from  the  moon,  and  hangs  over  the  jag 
ged  edges  and  outer  rim  of  the  theatre.  The  verdure  is  all 
silvered ;  and  upon  the  north  side,  where  the  full  radiance  falls, 
looks  like  thin  mist.  The  arches,  doorways  and  crannies,  are 
black  upon  that  side,  in  bold  contrast  with  the  other,  where 
they  are  lighted  up.  The  stars  glimmer  down  aud  overpeep 
the  horizon  of  stone — innumerably ;  spangling  an  awning  of 
blue,  richer  than  ever  was  spread  at  the  royal  tournament  of 
old.  A  solitary  bird  startles  the  echo — so  melancholy,  from 
the  darker  side  of  the  ring.  This  is  the  only  sound  heard  amid 
the  desolation.  Shouts  no  longer  crack  the  "welkin  ;  the  roar  of 
beasts  no  longer  answers  the  greeting  of  the  populace.  Yet 
through  these  old  walls,  the  storms  of  nearly  two  thousand 
years  have  whistled,  and  roared,  and  beat ;  yet  it  stands,  the 
monument  of  Rome,  and  the  everlasting  testimony  for  that 
Christianity,  whose  early  apostles  met  Death  and  gained  the 
Victory  in  its  inhospitable  embrace. 

We  drove  .home  past  a  temple  in  front  of  which  are  great 
piles  of  rocks.  Among  them,  are  water-gods,  tritons,  and  horses 
colossal,  around  and  out  of  which  gush,  in  every  direction, 
streams  of  water,  falling,  into  beauteous  basins,  clear  as  the  moon 
light  which  flashes  against  it,  and  musical  as  the  birds  which 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  123 

sing  near  its  natural  fountains  among  the  hills  of  Tivoli.  This 
is  the  sweet  "  virgin  "  fountain.  It  takes  its  name  from  an  an 
cient  story,  which  in  bass-reliefs  is  told  upon  the  lofty  temple's 
face. 

Why  have  we  nothing  like  this  in  America  ?  Why  is  Art  so 
slow  ?  It  is  because  Time  has  been  so  brief  with  us.  Nothing 
can  make  an  American  abroad  feel  how  much  his  country  has  to 
do,  as  to  see  what  strides  others  have  made,  who  have  been  even 
less  favorably,  placed.  Ours  is  a  struggle  yet  for  the  mate 
rial — the  needful.  The  Ideal  will  succeed,  as  the  rainbow  doth 
the  sun  and  shower.  We  are  following  the  true  order  of  nature. 
With  our  Keligion  and  Liberty  we  shall  not  have  Coliseums,  to 
remind  future  nations  of  any  departed  barbaric  glory.  Nobler 
temples  will  be  dedicated  to  nobler  purposes. 

It  remains  for  us  to  exhibit  the  contrast  of  the  Coliseum, — 
St.  Peter's ;  and  to  recall  the  reflections  which  that  celebrated 
pile  and  the  Vatican  aroused. 

Three  visits  to  these  spots  have  given  me  some  familiarity 
with  them  ;  but  it  is  not  the  familiarity  which  ceases  to  wonder, 
much  less  that  which  creates  contempt.  Neither  is  it  that  pom 
pous  procession  of  religious  association,  moving  down  the  corri 
dors,  the  aisles,  and  through  the  wilderness  of  stone,  called  St. 
Peter's,  which  excites  so  much  admiration  and  wonder.  It  is  the 
untold  magnificence  of  Art,  which  on  every  side  bursts  upon  the 
unaccustomed  mind  of  an  American.  We  have  seen  exhibitions 
of  art  at  every  step  throughout  Rome.  Sometimes  in  the  chur 
ches,  it  is  in  exceeding  bad  taste,  and  even  disgusting.  I  do 
not  remember,  however,  to  have  seen  any  thing  quite  so  bad  as  a 
picture  of  the  Last  Supper,  of  which  I  have  read,  and  which,  I 
believe,  was  found  in  a  church  in  Mexico — where  the  Cherubim 
and  Seraphim  act  as  cooks  and  scullions  ;  one  scouring  a  dish ; 
another  blowing  a  fire  ;  a  third  frying  eggs  ;  while  in  the  back 
ground,  with  head  and  wings  prominent,  others  are  passing  round 
the  edibles.  But  this  specimen  of  Art  will  serve  as  a  comment 
on  a  great  deal  of  the  worst  Art  to  bo  found  in  "Roman  churches 


124  ROME,  LIVING-  AND  DEAD. 

Its  tendency  is  to  unspiritualize  every  spiritual  object — to  earth- 
ify  it,  so  to  speak  ;  to  make  it  sensuous  and  tangible.  Even  in 
St.  Peter's,  where  the  boldest  genius  of  his  time,  Michael  An- 
gelo,  has  represented  GOD  himself  hurling  the  sun  and  earth 
into  existence — this  tendency  is  apparent.  The  culture  of 
humanity  is  the  prime  object  of  Art.  Is  this  effect  produced  by 
unsphering  from  the  lofty  temple  of  the  soul  those  objects,  which 
to  be  rightly  influential,  must  be  spiritual,  and  by  degrading 
them  to  a  niche  in  a  human  temple  made  with  hands — temporal 
and  not  eternal  ? 

The  approach  to  St.  Peter's  is  imposing.  A  great  circular 
piazza  opens  before  it,  surrounded  by  three  hundred  and  sixty 
large  columns,  gracefully  surmounted  by  an  entablature,  upon 
which  statues  glisten  in  the  sun.  Stand  upon  the  steps  of  the 
Basilica.  The  great  circle  of  columnal  grandeur  bends  about 
the  high  obelisk  and  the  twin  fountains.  On  either  side,  at  right 
angles  with  the  church,  are  the  vaulted  pathways,  leading  to  the 
chapels.  Upon  the  left  rises  the  Vatican,  with  its  intricate 
complexity  of  palaces.  The  crows,  high  up  among  the  carving  of 
the  capitals,  are  rearing  their  young,  and  cawing  like  a  company 
of  Frenchmen.  The  plash  of  fountains  hushes  into  Sabbath  si 
lence  the  air  around.  The  colossal  figures  of  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul  stand  guardians  of  the  place.  Turning  around — the  eight 
huge  columns  which  hide  in  their  shadows  other  columns,  lift 
on  high  the  mighty  temple  of  Catholic  Christendom.  The  jut 
ting  cornice  and  tracery  gracefully  hang  under  niches  and  over 
windows,  in  and  around  which  are  figures  with  scrolls,  sceptres 
and  crowns.  Far  out  in  front  (for  the  eye  leaps  about  as  if  a 
strange  spell  were  upon  it)  gleam  white  in  the  sun  the  angles  and 
curves  of  the  fine  walks.  No  verdure  relieves  the  extensiveness 
and  massiveness  of  the  view.  Bass-reliefs,  inscriptions,  bells  and 
clocks,  furnish  lineaments  for  the  church's  countenance  of  stone. 
As  the  eye  ranges  upward,  covering  the  vast  expanse  of  archi 
tecture,  we  may  well  exclaim  with  Gibbon  :  "  Here  is  tfie  most 
glorious  structure  that  ever  Jias  been  applied  to  tJie  use  of  religion" 


ROME,  LIVING-  AND  DEAD.  125 

Upon  this  spot  where  we  now  tread,  scarcely  a  century  after 
Christ,  an  oratory  was  erected  by  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  to  honor 
the  place  where  St.  Peter  was  interred.  Here  Constantine 
worshipped  the  cross  he  saw  in  the  heavens,  and  built  the  great 
Basilica.  Here  f>ope  after  pope  added  adornment  to  adorn 
ment,  until  the  finishing  genius  of  Michael  Angelo  completed  the 
structure,  by  crowning  its  sublimity  with  the  ever-during  beauty 
of  the  Pantheon.  What  expense,  what  labor,  what  genius  has 
been  here  expended  upon  a  few  acres  !  Indeed  the  expense  of 
the  additions  to  the  pile  were  so  great — extending  over  the 
reigns  of  forty-three  popes — that  the  sale  of  indulgences  was 
resorted  to  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  it.  This  resulted  in  the 
Reformation.  At  the  close  of  the  17th  century  the  expense 
amounted  to  $46,800,498 — exclusive  of  the  sacristy,  models, 
and  mosaics,  estimated  at  $900,000. 

One  is  staggered  which  to  wonder  at — the  power  that  can  levy 
such  contributions  upon  the  labor  of  the  world,  or  the  genius 
which  transforms  rough  masses  of  rock,  cragged  logs  and  trees, 
and  even  the  mire  on  which  we  tread,  into  palaces,  spires,  tem 
ples,  and  forms  of  every  variety  of  beauty  and  sublimity  ! 
Aladdin's  lamp  was  a  wonderful  instrument  in  its  day.  It 
converted  stones  into  gold,  and  carpeted  the  earth  with  velvet 
for  the  tread  of  kings  and  queens.  The  human  mind  far  ex 
ceeds  its  magic  power.  At  the  bidding  of  Mind,  this  immense 
structure  stood  unrivalled  and  alone, — the  towering  grandeur  of 
all  time; 

""Worthiest  of  God,  the  holy  and  the  true. 
Since  Zion's  desolation,  when  that  He 
Forsook  his  former  city,  what  could  be 
Of  earthly  structure  in  his  honor  piled 
Of  a  su-blimer  aspect.     Majesty, 
Power,  glory,  strength,  and  beauty, — all  are  aisled 
In  this  eternal  ark  of  worship  undefiled!" 

When  first  I  looked  upon  St.  Peter's  I  confess  to  a  keen 
disappointment.  Its  size  seemed  flattened,  and  its  dome  insig- 


126  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

nificant  compared  to  the  fancy  of  it  I  had  indulged.  No  doubt 
the  colossal  size  of  the  human  forms  about  it,  contributed  to  this 
effect,  by  giving  a  false  standard  of  measurement.  Indeed,  it  is 
so  immense  that  the  mind  is  bewildered  in  its  huge  details,  and 
loses  the  sense  of  the  immense  whole.  Byron  accounts  for  the 
same  impression,  not  by  the  lessening  of  the  pile,  but  by  the 
expansion  of  the  mind  under  the  genius  of  the  spot.  The 
church  is  about  806  feet  long.  The  transepts  from  wall  to  wall 
are  450  feet.  The  diameter  of  the  cupola  is  195  feet,  being  a 
little  larger  than  the  Pantheon.  The  height  of  the  cross  upon 
the  cupola  from  the  pave  is  435  feet ! 

But  how  can  I  paint  with  indigent  ink  the  interior  ?  At 
first  sight,  as  I  looked  down  the  vaulted  roofs  and  long  nave, 
and  up  its  swelling  dome,  I  felt  no  holy  awe,  such  as  hushed  the 
soul  into  stillness  in  Westminster  and  Notre  Dame.  The 
statues  of  popes,  the  paintings  of  saints,  the  sacred  canopies 
and  shrines,  the  presence  of  lesser  form  in  its  endless  variety, 
attracted  the  attention,  and  disturbed  the  aspiration  of  the  soul 
towards  the  Infinite.  The  Baldacchino,  or  grand  canopy,  cast 
into  spiral  columns  out  of  the  bronze  taken  from  the  Pantheon, 
and  garlanded  with  gilded  flowers  and  foliage,  stands  over  the 
grave  of  St.  Peter.  The  eye  swims  as  it  gazes  upon  it.  This 
beautiful  object  breaks  the  awe-inspiring  impression  of  the 
dome  under  which  it  stands.  Over  one  hundred  lamps  burn 
around  it,  while  below,  is  a  shrine  and  the  kneeling  statue  of 
Pius  VL,  by  Canova.  The  concave  of  the  church  is  ornamented 
with  stuccoes  and  mosaics,  while  at  the  further  end  is  the 
apostolic  .chair  in  bronze,  lifted  aloft  under  such  a  variety  of 
ornament  as  can  only  be  seen,  not  pencilled.  Among  the  va 
rious  statues  is  the  monument  to  the  Stuarts,  by  Canova.  The 
outcast  Royalty  of  Britain  is  here  entombed'  in  more  regal 
state  than  Westminster  could  bestow.  The  gazer  is  informed, 
by  an  inscription,  that  James  III.,  Charles  III.,  and  Henry  IX., 
Kings  of  England,  here  repose  !  Some  one  should  forthwith 
advise  Macaulay  of  this  large  gap  in  his  history.  There  is 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  127 

certainly  one  chapter  omitted,  if  this  inscription  be  true. 
Why  will  men  for  ever  use  the  memorial  of  the  dead  as  the 
instrument  of  lies  ?  Shakspeare  exaggerates  but  little  when  he 
says,  that  there  is 


-"  On  every  grave 


A  lying  trophy :  and  as  oft  is  dumb 

"Where  dust  and  damned  oblivion  is  the  tomb 

Of  honored  bones  indeed." 

But  we  will  let  the  exiles  of  England  sleep.  Their  arro 
gance  no  longer  tramples  upon  the  necks  of  our  good  Puritan 
ancestors.  Their  monument  rises  beneath  a  dome  as  glorious 
as  the  highest  ambition  «of  their  God-anointed  heads  could 
imagine. 

By  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Cass,  we  procured  a  ticket  of  ad 
mission  to  the  Grotte  Vatican,  the  subterranean  chapel,  for  our 
ladies ;  as  ladies  are  excluded  therefrom  without  a  special  per 
mit  from  the  Pope.  This  chapel  is  a  part  of  the  old  Basilica, 
which  yet  stands  over  the  tombs  of  the  early  martyrs.  The 
original  floor  is  still  there,  and  there,  too,  is  the  tomb  of  St. 
Peter.  As  we  passed  it,  with  our  torches  and  our  company  of 
priests,  we  observed  before  its  secluded  shrine  a  solitary  monk, 
saying  mass.  Our  guide  and  the  priests  dropped  in  adoration, 
while  we  stood  involuntarily  bowing  before  the  strange  spec 
tacle.  Around  were  the  graves  of  the  dead.  The  spectral ' 
shadows  upon  the  mosaics  and  bas-reliefs  peopled  the  narrow 
chambers ;  while  gloom  seemed  here  to  linger  as  if  in  her  own 
dark  home.  "  Our  breathing  grew  -  short  and  our  step  fearful, 
as  we  wandered  amid  this  home  of  departed  priesthood.  At 
last  we  emerged  again  into  the  nave  of  the  church,  with  the  pray 
er  that  our  last  repose  might  not  be  in  such  a  corridor  of  stone  and 
darkness;  but  under  the  pleasant  light  of  heaven,  amid  the 
beauty  of  nature,  where  birds  might  sing,  and  in  the  place 
where  affection  should  prompt  and  love  to  linger. 

Having  viewed  the  depth,  we  could  not  refrain  from  visit- 


128.  HOME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

ing  the   height  of   St.   Peter's.       A  broad  paved  spiral  stair 
case  leads  by  gentle  ascent    to  the  roof  of  stone.      One  might 
easily  drive  up  with  horses  and  carriage.     The  top  would  form, 
also,  a  pleasant  drive.    On  the  walls  are  the  names  of  the  sover 
eigns  who  have  been  up  to  the  cupola — a  long  list.     This  list 
might  be  increased  considerably,  if  the  American  sovereigns  were 
added.     The  roof  seems  to  be  a  city  in  itself.     Upon  it  are  bel 
fries,  domes,  houses,  and   other  appendages   of  a    city.     Home 
begins  to  grow  small  below.     The  head  grows  dizzy  as  the  eye 
dares  to   descend — but  we   are   not  half   up.      The   Pantheon 
stands  before  us  upon  the   roof,  surmounted  by    the  brass  ball, 
which  seems  some   two  feet  in  diameter,  and  into  which  it  is 
said  sixteen  people  may  be  stowed.  •  Through  winding  stairs, 
by  tugging   and  resting,  and  gazing  out  of   the  windows,  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  dome ;  and  walked  out  into  a  balcony, 
whose  railing   is  invisible  below,  and  into  the  open   air  some 
400  feet  above  the  city.    Below  us  are  the  flowering  orange  trees 
and  gardens  of  the  Pope  ;  far  to  the  south-east,  the   Coliseum 
and  its  brother-ruins  fling  their  broken   shadows  to  the  earth  ; 
still  further  beyond,  under    an   exquisite   web  of  mist,  lie   in 
quiet  beauty  the  hills  of  Tusculum,  Viterbo,   Tivoli,  and   the 
chain  of  Apennines.     To  the  left,  old   Mount  Soracte.  of  classic 
memory,  whitens  its  top  in  the  sky.     Monte  Mario   relieves  its 
baldness  by  a  green   summit,  nearer  to   our  view.     Between  in 
•dead  long  levels,  the  freshly-mown  Campagna  spreads  its  great 
carpet  about  the  seven  hills, — the  dim  blue  fringe  of  which  car 
peting   is  none  other  than  the   Mediterranean,  visible  in  a  long 
line  upon  the  left.     The  birds  chirrup  among  the  fragrant  gar 
dens,   and   fountains  endeavor  to  climb  upward,  only  to  curl 
in  beauty  and   murmur  their  music.     The  Tiber,  seemingly  a 
little   run,  plays   awhile  amid  the   foliage,  glances,  winds  here 
and  there  amid  the  roofs  below,  and  under  the  Angelo  bridge, 
and  then  darts  away  towards  the  horizon,  to  mingle  its  thread 
of  yellow  in  that  fringe  of  blue. 

Can  we  ascend  higher  ?    Try  that  perpendicular  iron  ladder, 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  129 

and  follow  it  upward  through  that  long  narrow  neck,  and  you 
are  in  the  ball  itself!  One  of  our  ladies  even  dared  it.  The 
atmosphere  was  a  little  tepid  to  be  sure,  owing  to  the  proximity 
of  the  ball  to  its  solar  companion.  The  echo  of  our  voices 
clinked  so  fearfully  on  its  sounding  metal,  that — yes — it  was 
really  fearful.  The  sense  of  being  so  high,  worse  than  the 
sight  through  the  little  chinks,  made  me  feel  more  indescribably 
queer  and  qualmy  than  ever  I  felt  before.  The  trembling 
knees  almost  refused  the  rapid  descent,  while  pespiration  drop 
ped  beads  from  the  brow,  like  Oriental  trees  their  "  medicinal 
gum."  My  second  ascent  in  company  was  much  more  pleasant. 
Our  guide  told  us  a  good  story  of  an  obese  Frenchman,  who, 
the  other  day,  squeezed  through  the  neck  and  found  himself 
puffing  in  the  ringing  ball.  He  illustrated  the  old  Horatian 
fable  beautifully ;  for  he  could  not  take  the  back-track.  He 
was  too,  "  Oh,  call  it  not  fat — oleaginous"  to  return.  There 
he  remained  between  heaven  and — earth,  half  a  day,  all  the 
while  dripping  like  a  fountain,  or  like  Falstaff,  "  larding  the 
lean  earth,"  until  the  profuseness  of  the  perspiration  had  some 
what  diminished  the  rotundity  of  his  corporosity,  when  he  de 
scended  from  his  oven,  a  sadder  and  a  thinner  man  ! 

On  our  return  down,  we  saw  the  lamps  with  which  St. 
Peter's  is  illuminated  on  festal  days.  Boys  are  tied  in  strings 
(like  Wethersfield  onions),  and  hung  down  in  great  garlands 
along  the  lamp  lines.  Three  hundred  and  eighty-two  men  are 
also  on  hand  to  assist  in  the  lighting.  Every  column,  cornice, 
and  frieze,  and  all  the  details,  even  to  the  summit  of  the  cross 
above  the  ball,  are  to  be  lighted.  In  eight  seconds,  at  a  given 
signal,  6,800  golden  lights  leap  into  being,  and  burn  against  the 
gigantic  architecture — a  firmament  of  fire  ! 

The  sun  dial,  upon  the  roof,  points  to  the  hour  of  ten  min 
utes  after  thirteen  !  which  is  our  ten  minues  after  nine.  Another 
singularity  as  to  time  in  Rome  is,  that  at  noon  a  gun  is  fired,  a 
black  ball  rises  over  the  college,  and  every  bell  rings  the  time. 
It  produces  quite  a  startling  effect  on  the  stranger. 
6* 


130  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

8.     THE  VATICAN. 

Our  visit  to  the  Vatican  occupied  two  days,  and  then  it  was 
but  a  hurried  glance  at  this  great  repertory  of  art.  learning, 
wealth,  and  power.  We  democrats  from  the  land  of  home-bred 
simplicity,  and  brick  and  mortar  unadorned,  were  completely 
confounded  by  the  constant  succession  of  splendors.  Here 
are  the  spoils  of  Time  as  well  as  its  trophies,  arranged  amid 
the  museums  and  libraries,  and  long — long — galleries.  Here 
learning  and  taste  have  added  building  after  building,  so  that 
the  appearance  of  the  whole  from  St.  Peter's  cupola,  is  that  of 
a  long  parellelogram  of  stony  fabrics,  with  squares  between, 
wherein  are  gardens  of  rare  exotics  in  great  urns,  together  with 
fountains  of  clear  water.  Long  arbors  of  boxwood,  and  high 
impenetrable  hedges  of  living  green,  spread  around  the  palaces? 
upon  which  we  may  look,  as  we  stroll  through  the  long  corridors, 
filled  with  busts,  statues,  sarcophagi,  and  old  inscriptions  in 
serted  in  the  walls.  To  compute  the  extent  of  these  halls, 
miles  might  be  used.  The  number  of  apartments  may  give 
some  idea  of  its  extent.  It  has  eight  grand  stair  cases,  200 
smaller  ones,  20  courts,  and  4.422  apartments. 

The  wonders  from  Etrusca  and  Egypt  form  separate  mu 
seums,  and  speak  an  earlier  civilization  than  that  of  the  elder 
Romans.  In  the  cabinets,  relieved  by  porticos,  were  the  choice 
statues  of  antiquity,  some  greatly  mutilated.  We  had  many 
opportunities  of  applying  the  principle  ''•ex  pede  Hercitlcm." 
Here  were  statues  of  every  animal,  as  well  as  every  variety  of 
men  and  divinities. 

Separate  and  apart  from  all  others  stood  the  great  group  of 
the  Laocoon.  The  greatest  offspring  of  the  chisel  stood  before 
us,  in  his  torture  dignifying  pain, 

"  With  an  immortal's  patience  blending." 

Oh  !  what  a  clench  was  that  old  man's  ;  what  expiring  sadness 
upon  that  young  brow,  and  what  speechless,  anxious  agony  upon 


, 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  131 

that  other  !  For  two  thousand  years  that  "  long  envenomed 
chain  of  living  links"  has  wound  about  the  father  and  his  sons, 
awakening  the  deepest  sympathy  of  the  soul,  while  it  illustrates 
the  power  of  the  Rhodian  sculptors  over  the  passions  of  man. 

What  a  contrast  to  this  is  the  APOLLO  BELVIDERE,  which  is 
near.  Light  enshrined  ;.  every  dignity  personified ;  Love  dei 
fied  ;  Beauty,  Manliness,  and  G-enius,  encased  gracefully  in  the 
white  marble  ;  all  that  rivets  admiration  in  the  fair,  or  awakens 
awe  in  the  supernal,  stand 

"Starlike  around  \uitil  they  gather  to  a  God!" 

Raphael's  "  Transfiguration,"  which  we  afterwards  saw,  could 
not  compete  for  the  guerdon  beside  these  marble  marvels  of  an 
tiquity.  The  stone  has  no  peer  in  the  canvass,  in  the  highest 
heaven  of  art. 

It  would  only  weary,  to  tell  our  visions  of  beauty  and 
uniqueness,  which  every  where  gleamed  from  niche,  ceiling,  wall, 
and  floor ;  throughout  library,  portico,  museum,  and  cabinet. 
Here  were  the  maps  of  all  Italy,  worked  in  the  wall.  There, 
the  mosaic  manufactory,  where  all  the  saints  and  popes  are 
starting  a  new  race  for  immortality  in  the  panels  of  St.  Paul. 
There,  the  richest  tapestry  of  Gobelins,  with  the  Bible  illus 
trated  by  a  strange  order  of  art.  Every  where  the  same  im 
pression  is  produced,  of  endless  variety,  in  the  mazes  of  which 
the  mind  is  almost  lost,  like  a  child  amid  a  wilderness  of  foliage 
and  beauty.  Yet  out  of  all  these  endless  varieties  and  "  bro 
therly  dissimilitudes,  arises  the  goodly  and  graceful  symmetry," 
that  speaks  the  common  reason  and  nature  which  we  all  wear 
under  God,  our  Maker.  Through  manifold  phases  and  turnings 
the  mind  ascends  to  that  apex  of  generalization,  where  Unity 
kisses  heaven  and  is  embathed  in  its  pure  light ;  where  the  great 
est  as  well  as  the  least  obey  that  common  law,  whose  seat  is 
in  the  bosom  of  God. 


132  HOME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 


9.    THE  POPE  AT  SERVICE. 

Yet  one  may  wander  amidst  all  these  magnificent  results  of 
Art  in  the  Vatican  and  St.  Peter's,  yet  fail  to  catch  the  spirit 
that  breathes  throughout  them.  The.  actors  in  this  splendid 
theatre  should  be  noted,  as  they  move  in  full  costume  to  fill 
the  swelling  scene.  This  was  our  object  upon  the  first  Sunday 
morning  in  Summer,  as  we  drove  toward  the  piazza  of  St.  Peter's. 
The  Pope  was  to  officiate  in  Sistine  Chapel.  Our  ladies  had 
doffed  the  gaudy-ribboned  bonnet  and  donned  the  simple  black 
veil.  We  had,  according  to  the  rule,  put  on  dress-coats.  The 
crowd  increases  as  we  drive  within  the  enclosure.  Following 
our  guide  along  the  straight  corridors,  and  through  files  of  the 
Pope's  Swiss  guards,  dressed  in  fantastic  yellow  and  black,  with 
Turkish  pants  and  long  spears,  we  were  ushered  by  soldiers 
(one  of  whom  valiantly  siezed  my  cane  and  straw  hat  and  bore 
it  away  in  triumph)  into  the  chapel.  The  ladies  we  leave 
seated,  looking  through  great  gilded  bars,  while  we  pass  in 
among  Austrian  soldiers,  Franciscans  in  their  brown  robes,  and 
a  goodly  variety  of  other  holy  orders. 

While  waiting  the  entrance  of  His  Holiness,  the  mind  can 
find  delight  in  examining  the  "Last  Judgment"  of  Angelo, 
frescoed  upon  the  wall  of  the  Chapel.  Every  variety  of  Hope, 
Doubt,  Despair  and  Beatitude,  beam  upon  us  from  the  figures 
upon  the  wall.  Within  a  sacred  enclosure,  over  which  tip-toed 
curiosity  can  barely  peep,  is  a  green-carpeted  floor  and  tapestry 
hangings,  with  an  altar  and  a  throne.  Seats  are  arranged  for 
the  Cardinals,  who  soon  begin  to  pour  in,  dressed  in  great  red 
gowns  and  skull  caps,  attended  by  servants  in  purple.  After 
bows  and  crosses,  the  servants  proceed  to  unroll  the  trains  and 
Beat  the  Cardinals  A  very  hearty  array  of  old  Romans  they 
seem,  with  their  arms  under  cover,  their  gray  hair  shining,  their 
lofty  brows  and  intelligent  faces  bespeaking  good  living  as  well 
study  and  reflection.  Most  of  them  kept  up  an  inaudible  prayer. 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  133 

One  fine,  old,  tremblingly  fat  gentleman  seemed  to  be  beyond 
the  age  of  piety,  but  his  habitual  prayerfulness  still  played  upon 
his  lips.  He  reminded  me  of  Chaucer's  monk,  who  repeated  all 
his  terms, 

"  That  he  had  learned  out  of  some  decree, 
No  wonder  was,  he  heard  it  all  the  day." 

Directly,  buff  soldiers,  with  gilt  helmets  and  drawn  swords, 
rush  in  to  guard  the  door.  I  thought,  at  first,  that  there  was  a 
sudden  insurrection,  knowing  that  in  matters  of  power,  as  poor 
Pius  has  learned,  "  there  is  but  one  step  from  the  Capitol  to  the 
Tarpeian  Rock."  But  no — the  choir  strike  the  high  notes;  the 
doors  beyond  open,  and — "  Voila !"  the  Vicegerent  of  God  ap 
pears  in  his  tiara  and  cloth  of  gold  !  Around  him  swarm  minis 
ters  of  every  degree  and  shade  of  color.  He  kneels  :  the  rustle 
of  red  Cardinals  shivers  in  the  hallowed  air,  and  all  kneel.  Then 
he  ascends  to  the  throne — a  fine-looking,  full-faced  man,  graceful 
and  dignified  in  his  bearing.  Power  he  seems  to  wear  as  a 
familiar  garment.  How  graciously  he  extends  his  hand  to  the 
Cardinals,  who  severally  leave  their  seats,  attended  by  their 
attendants  in  purple,  carrying  their  trains.  They,  bowing,  kiss 
the  hand,  or,  as  I  was  informed,  the  diamond  brilliant  upon  the 
Pope's  ring,  as  a  token  of  reverence.  An  inferior  order  pros 
trate  themselves,  and  tip  their  labia  at  the  shoe  of  His  Holi 
ness,  upon  which  is  a  cross  of  silver.  In  the  mean  time,  seraphic 
music  from  the  Pope's  select  choir  ravishes  the  ear,  while  the 
incense  titilates  the  nose.  Soon  there  arises  in  this  chamber  of 
theatrical  glitter,  a  plain,  unquestioned  African,  and  he  utters 
the  sermon  in  facile  Latinity,  with  graceful  manner.  His  dark 
hands  gestured  harmoniously  with  the  rotund  periods,  and  his 
swart  visage  beamed  with  a  high  order  of  intelligence.  He  was 
an  Abyssinian. 

What  a  commentary  was  here  upon  our  American  prejudices. 
The  head  of  the  great  Catholic  Church,  surrounded  by  the  ripest 
scholars  of  the  age,  listening  to  the  eloquence  of  the  despised 


134  ROME,  LIVING-  AND  DEAD. 

negro ;  and  thereby  illustrating  to  the  world  the  common  bond 
of  brotherhood  which  binds  the  human  race.  I  confess  that,  at 
first,  it  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of  theatrical  mummery,  not  being 
familiar  with  such  admixtures  of  society.  But,  on  reflection,  I 
discerned  in  it  the  same  influence  which,  during  the  dark  ages, 
conferred  such  inestimable  blessings  on  mankind.  History 
records,  that  from  the  time  when  the  barbarians  overran  the 
Western  Empire  to  the  time  of  the  revival  of  letters,  the  influ 
ence  of  the  Church  of  Rome  had  been  generally  favorable  to 
science,  to  civilization,  and  to  good  government.  Why  ?  Because 
her  system  held  then,  as  it  holds  now,  all  distinctions  of  caste 
as  odious.  She  regards  no  man,  bond  or  free,  white  or  black, 
as  disqualified  for  the  priesthood.  This  doctrine  has,  as  Macau- 
lay  develops  in  his  introductory  chapter  to  his  English  lystory, 
mitigated  many  of  the  worst  evils  of  society ;  for  where  race 
tyrannized  over  race,  or  baron  over  villein,  Catholicism  came 
between  them,  and  created  an  aristocracy  altogether  independent 
of  race  or  feudalism,  compelling  even  the  hereditary  master  to 
kneel  before  the  spiritual  tribunal  of  the  hereditary  bondman. 
The  childhood  of  Europe  was  passed  under  the  guardianship  of 
priestly  teachers ;  who  taught,  as  the  scene  in  Sistine  Chapel  of 
an  Ethiop  addressing  the  proud  rulers  of  Catholic  Christendom 
teaches,  that  no  distinction  is  regarded  at  Rome,  save  that  which 
divides  the  priest  from  the  people. 

The  sermon  of  the  Abyssinian,  in  beautiful  print,  was  distrib 
uted  at  the  door.  I  bring  one  home  as  a  trophy  and  as  a  sou 
venir  of  a  great  truth  which  Americans  are  prone  to  deny  or 
contemn. 

I  had  seen  the  successor  of  Hildebrand  and  the  tenth  Leo. 
I  had  seen  the  head  of  that  anti-Christ  which  Luther  fought, 
with  so  much  rancor  and  heroism.  I  had  seen  the  visible  im 
personal  power,  which  in  former  times  had  made  Henry  the  IV. 
stand  for  days  bare-headed  under  the  blasts  of  an  Apennine  win 
ter,  praying  admission  to  humble  himself;  which  in  the  per 
son  of  Alexander  III.,  whose  tomb  we  saw,  placed  its  foot  on 


LIVING  AND  DEAD.  135 

the  neck  of  the  haughty  Frederick,  with  the  expression,  "  Super 
aspidcm  et  basiliscum  ambalabis." 

Glitter  and  pomp  greater  than  what  I  had  seen,  could  not  sur 
round  the  human  form. — Homage  such  as  could  only  be  shown 
to  the  representative  of  the  SAVIOUR,  was  here  exhibited ;  but 
one  could  not  help  feeling  that  the  mighty  heart  of  Popery  as  it 
once  throbbed,  was  not  here.  "Whether  there  be  only  one  more 
niche  in  St.  Peter's  for  Pius  Nono  to  fill,  and  thus  end  the  long  line 
of  tlie  Holy  Fathers,  I  did  not  observe ;  but  this  I  did  feel, 
that  in  Italy  and  in  Europe,  the  people  had  become  alive  to  the 
compact  of  tyranny  between  the  Church  and  State.  To  borrow 
the  biting  sarcasm  of  a  Westminster  Reviewer  of  last  Janu 
ary  ;  ':  Even  the  most  superstitious  have  had  their  faith  terribly 
shaken,  and  have  seen  the  infallible  successor  of  St.  Peter  igno- 
miniously  kicked  out  of  his  apostolic  chair  by  his  own  children, 
and  ignominiously  kicked  back  again  by  a  French  army.  Heaven 
had  no  thunder  to  hurl  destruction  at  the  impious  republicans  ; 
and  neither  virgin  nor  saints  were  in  the  clouds  arrayed  *in 
their  best  clothes  to  give  honor  to  his  return.  His  exit  and  his 
restoration  were  both  vulgar,  and  the  poor  old  man  is  forcibly  held 
in  his  uncomfortable  seat  by  his  masters  in  Paris,  Vienna,  and  St. 
Petersburg,  trembling  every  inch  of  him,  lest  the  whole  machine 
should  again  be  blown  to  shivers,  and  he  himself  be  snuffed  out 
like  a  candle  that  is  no  longer  wanted  because  daylight  is  come" 
The  weakness  of  the  pontificate  does  not  spring  from  any 
peculiar  corruption  such  as  formerly  severed  the  best  part  of 
Germany  and  Switzerland  from  its  influence.  Children  no  longer 
sing,  as  they  did  in  Melancthon's  time ; 

''Of  all  foul  spots  the  world  around, 
The  foulest  spot  in  Rome  is  found." 

That  weakness  springs  from  the  increased  light  of  the  age. 
The  holy  wicks  only  shone  awful  and  potential  in  the  dim  twi 
light  of  ignorance  ;  but  then  they  were  the  only  lights  a  mis 
guided  world  possessed.  Pius  is  well  meaning  enough.  His 


136  ROME,  LIVING-  AND  DEAD. 

countenance  bespeaks  a  quiet  and  tender  heart.  He  lacks  deci 
sion  of  character.  He  fears  to  take  a  step  that  will  end  disas 
trously  to  the  people.  Let  me  illustrate  by  an  incident  that 
occurred  the  other  day.  Some  French  soldiers  were  stilettoed 
a  few  nights  since,  apparently  for  smoking,  which  the  Italians 
detest.  Some  six  Italians  were  arrested  and  condemned  to 
death.  The  Pope,  as  it  was  in  his  power,  reprieved  them.  The 
French  Commandant  sent  Pope  Pius  word,  that  if  he  were 
not  permitted  to  execute  the  sentence  he  would  resign  and 
go  home  ;  thereby  intimating  that  difficulty  would  follow.  The 
Pope  timidly  yielded ;  and  the  six  men,  who  are  now  in  the  Cas 
tle  of  St.  Angelo,  are  to  be  shot. 

This  state  of  things  cannot  last.  Secret  societies  bound 
together  by  sacred  oaths,  and  resolved  for  republicanism,  are 
known  to  exist  here.  They  comprehend  the  greatest  part  of  the 
people.  Silence — which  seems  as  "  harmless  as  the  rose's  breath 
to  a  distant  passenger"  is  the  result  of  secrecy,  and  betokens,  in 
fact,  the  hushed  breath  of  that  liberty  which,  as  Grattan  has  it, 
will  not  die  with  the  PROPHET,  but  survive  him  ! 

What  reflections  ensue  upon  leaving  these  vestibules  of  Pow 
er  and  Splendor?  Do  they  humiliate  the  poor  and  humble 
wanderer  from  the  distant  shores  of  the  Western  world  ?  Thank 
God.  No  !  Under  our  own/ree  sky,  we  have  a  temple  of  wor 
ship,  whose  pillars  stand  upon  no  slavish  foundation,  and  whose 
dome  was  reared  by  no  traffic  in  sin.  Jewels  we  have,  sown 
every  dawn  upon  the  fertile  earth,  well  worth  whole  satrapies  of 
power  ;  tapestry  dyed  in  sunsets  of  gorgeous  glory ;  and  forms 
of  freemen — "  lords  of  the  lion  heart  and  eagle  eye" — every  one 
a  POPE, — moving  in  individual  independence — accountable  to  God 
alone  !  And  as  we  take  a  last  look  at  the  gorgeous  interior  of 
St.  Peter's  Basilica — at  the  vast  fabric,  with  its  vistas  and  aisles 
opening  on  every  side — as  high  thoughts  lift  the  soul  upward  to  its 
fount — as  the  rich  light  streams  in,  through  and  upon  dim  reli 
gious  forms — as  we  feel  the  blest  effluence  from  God, — half  lost  in 
the  contamination  of  man — as  the  idea  of  Eternity  grows  upon 


HOME,  LIVING  AND   DEAD.  137 

the  soul  with  the  eye  moving  upward  and  upward  within  the 
swelling  dome ;  still — still,  the  home  of  the  loved  and  the  free 
land  of  our  birth  is  ever  the  prayer  and  the  burden  of  the  full 
heart. 

10. — THE  CARDINALS  AND  POLITICS. 

It  was  a  wonder  to  my  unsophisticated  mind  how  these  Car 
dinals  here,  were  supported  in  their  stately  pomp.  I  wondered 
no  longer  when  I  learned  some  of  the  secret  springs  which 
political  churchmen  have  the  opportunity  and  the  will  to  touch. 
You  may  see  their  carriages  rolling  by,  adorned  with  arms  and 
liveried  servants.  They  live  in  sumptuous  style  in  splendid 
palaces.  When  elected,  a  salary  of  about  four  thousand  dollars 
is  attached  to  their  office,  as  well  as  the  tribute  of  some  foreign 
Bishopric  or  ecclesiastical  establishment.  They  are  the  sources 
of  power,  and  this  affords  them  an  immense  revenue.  With 
very  few  exceptions  they  are  said  to  be  profligate  and  corrupt ; 
and  this  they  are,  without  the  mitigation  which  the  warm  blood 
of  youth  and  ignorance  might  furnish. 

The  prominent  cardinal  is  named,  I  believe,  ANTONELLI.  He 
was  formerly  a  Bandit,  and  condemned  as  such.  Gregory  XVI. 
found  in  him,  a  shrewd,  ingenious,  gifted  mind,  and  attached 
him  to  his  household.  He  rose  rapidly  in  the  priesthood,  and 
now  exercises  the  controlling  power  in  these  States.  The  Pope 
has  more  heart  than  sense.  He  is  a  kind,  generous,  tender 
hearted  old  gentleman ;  exceedingly  fallible  in  judgment,  and 
weak  in  decision  of  purpose.  He  has  qualities  which  fit  him  for 
the  head  of  a  church,  but  not  for  the  head  of  a  troublesome  civil 
organization.  He  has  been  so  keenly  reproached  for  bringing 
all  the  trouble  of  the  Revolution,  by  his  liberality,  that  he  has 
committed  to  others  political  matters,  and  now  concerns  himself 
simply  with  the  affairs  of  the  church.  If  he  could  only  dissever 
the  civil  from  the  papal  power,  he  would  give  Popery  a  tremen 
dous  influence  which  it  now  has  not,  throughout  the  world; 


138  ROME,  LIVING   AND  DEAD. 

especially  in  the  United   States,  where  the  democratic  principle 
can  brook  no  constraint  from  any  other  influence. 

What  I  have  said  and  shall  say  about  the  Catholic  religion 
at  Home,  has  reference  simply  to  its  connection  with  the  state  ; 
which  unholy  alliance,  ever  fraught  with  corruption  to  both, 
whether  at  Geneva,  at  Canterbury,  or  in  Rome,  must  be  depre 
cated  by  every  American  who  is  proud  of  his  own  Constitution 
and  who  loves  its  liberal  principles. 

What  I  have  said  in  relation  to  matters  here,  might  well  be 
said  by  any  intelligent  American  Catholic.  God  forbid  that  a 
single  blot  of  intolerance  should  blacken  my  poor  pages.  I 
have  studied  with  too  nice  a  heed  the  human  heart,  and  its  rela 
tions  to  man  and  to  God,  ever  to  color  facts  or  aggravate  preju 
dice,  where  conscience  is  the  arbiter  of  conduct,  and  God  alone 
its  Judge.  I  have  remarked,  too,  with  pride,  the  greajb  differ 
ence  between  the  Catholic  religion  at  home  and  abroad.  As 
well  accuse  Protestantism  of  the  absurdities  of  the  Shakers,  as 
Catholicism  of  some  of  the  absurdities  I  have  seen  practised 
here  in  the  churches.  Churches  ?  Not  so.  '  Only  one  church, 
that  of  St.  Augustine,  and  called  the  church  of  the  common 
people,  was  the  scene  of  what  in  America  would  be  called,  or 
would  seem,  idolatry.  We  entered  the  church  to  see  its  singu 
lar  bedizenment.  The  pillars  were  hung  with  silver  ornaments 
as  high  up  as  you  can  see.  The  church  was  darkened ;  only 
lighted  by  candles,  whose  glare  made  it  glitter  like  a  hall  of 
flaming  diamond.  Some  say  the  silver  and  jewels  are  bogus 
and  paste.  Of  that  I  am  not  able  to  speak.  It  would  be  no 
marvel  if  they  were  all  genuine.  The  prime  object  in  the 
church,  is  a  large  image  of  the  Virgin,  holding  the  Son.  It 
occupies  a  niche  near  the  door.  It  is  decked  out  in  all  the 
beads,  tinselry  and  gaudiness  of  an  Oriental  Indian  Princess, 
while  the  environment  is  one  blaze  of  jewelled  light.  Neck, 
arms  and  shoulders,  are  hung  with  necklaces  and  bracelets. 
The  figure  of  the  child  was  quite  encased  in  the  glittering  splen 
dor.  Lights  burn  before  the  altar  continually.  Around  this 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  139 

altar,  are  numbers  bowing  and  crossing ;  while  every  moment 
some  one  passes  up  to  the  image,  and  wiping  its  silver  foot, 
kisses  the  toe  once,  sometimes  twice, — crosses,  and  retires  to  give 
place  to  another.  While  we  stood  there,  perhaps  five  minutes 
at  least,  a  dozen  devotees  performed  this  ceremony.  The  richly 
dressed  lady  enters,  and  with  lace  handkerchief  wipes  the  sacred 
foot,  kisses  it,  and  is  followed  by  a  beggar  in  tatters,  whose 
sleeve  and  lip  answer  the  same  office.  And  yet,  as  we  look 
around  and  see  the  pious,  upturned,  happy  faces  of  the  worship 
pers,  seeming  to  be  gladdened  by  the  radiance  of  the  Virgin,  as 
they  repeat  their  Ave  Marias ;  as  we  remember  that  from  child 
hood  these  habitudes  have  been  forming,  and  as  we  recall  the 
tremendous  power  of  religious  emotion,  we  cannot  but  sympa 
thize  with  the  devotee,  who  seeks  the  intercession  of  the  sweet 
Virgin  to  save  from  sin  and  woe. 

Far  otherwise  is  our  regard  toward  the  pampered  Cardinal  of 
Rome,  if  I  am  to  believe  what  comes  to  me  upon  the  best  authority. 
Let  me  give  you  a  fact.  During  the  Revolution,  our  Charge 
had  access  to  many  places  which  upon  ordinary  occasions  were 
barred.  In  one  of  these  penetralias  of  power,  he  read,  in  Latin, 
a  law  by  which  if  any  one,  dying,  signified  to  the  attendant  Car 
dinal  his  wish  to  leave  him  his  estate,  all  that  was  necessary 
upon  the  death  of  the  person,  to  obtain  the  estate,  was  for  the 
Cardinal  to  proceed  to  the  Sistine  Chapel  and  make  oath  to 
the  bequest,  when  all  other  wills  were  set  aside,  and  the  Swiss 
Guards  were  ordered  to  put  him  in  possession.  The  Cardinal, 
at  the  dying  hour,  had  the  power  to  command  all  out  of  the 
presence  of  the  dying  man.  You  may  thus  see  what  a  handle 
of  iniquity  is  this  statute.  Well  may  it  be  kept  close.  "  But  is 
it  ever  put  in  execution  ?"  Listen  !  The  head  of  one  of  the 
oldest  of  the  noble  families  of  Rome,  named  Franjapanelli,  was 
about  to  die.  His  friend,  the  Cardinal  (I  cannot  spell  his  name), 
called  to  "  see  him  oft7,"  and  administer  the  holy  wafer.  He 
had  before  solemnly  disposed  of  his  immense  property  among 
his  children  ;  the  greater  share  to  his  eldest  son,  who  had  mar- 


14Q  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

ricd  an  American  lady,  and  the  rest  of  his  estate  satisfactorily 
He  died  at  night.  The  next  morning  the  Swiss  Guards  put  tin 
Cardinal  into  the  family  palace,  and  into  all  the  other  posses 
sions,  and  the  family  out  upon  the  world  penniless.  This  was 
just  before  the  Revolution.  The  eldest  son  became  a  Repub 
lican  and  died  in  defence  of  the  city.  His  widow  is  pressing 
her  suit  in  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  but  without  hope.  The 
court  is  made  up  of  Cardinals  or  Priests,  who  are  without  soul 
or  sympathy.  Not  having  families,  they  know  no  tender  ties  of 
father  or  husband.  They  sit  in  frigid  iceberg  dignity,  in  the 
large  marble  palaces,  and  never  warm  except  in  the  lust  ot 
power  or  profligacy.  Yet  the  only  tribunals  of  Rome  are  con 
stituted  of  such.  They  have  no  record.  They  have  not  even 
that  respectable  appendage  of  a  Court,  termed  lawyers.  Bribery 
is  their  argument,  and  corruption  the  conclusion  of  their  jus 
tice.  We  may  truly  say,  that  to  press  a  suit  in  that  tribunal, 
would  be  to  appeal  to  sullen  stones.  Here,  if  any  where  on 
earth,  the  "  learned  pate  ducks  to  the  golden  fool."  The  English 
chancery  is  beatitude  to  litigation  in  such  a  place. 

I  hope  the  Pope  will  create  no  Cardinals  for  America.  It 
was  rumored  that  Bishop  Hughes  was  to  have  a  hat.  The  ill 
success  attending  the  Wiseman  experiment  in  England  will 
prevent  Papacy  from  creating  any  Cardinals  in  Protestant 
countries.  His  Holiness,  who  seems  to  fancy  our  Charge  here 
sufficiently  to  consult  with  him,  informed  him  that  there  was 
no  foundation  for  the  rumor  of  an  American  Cardinal.  Mr. 
CASS  rather  advised  him  against  the  step;  although  he  ex 
plained  how  perfectly  easy  the  matter  would  be  received  in  our 
tolerant  country. 

Mr.  CASS  trims  his  diplomatic  sails  very  neatly,  and  has 
run  between  Scylla  and  Charybdis  without  so  much  as  a  single 
leak.  While  he  explained  to  Mazzini  and  his  friends  the 
operation  of  republican  institutions,  and  loaned  them  our  con 
stitutions,  he  protected  Cardinals  and  Priests  in  his  house  from 
popular  fury.  He  has  been  well  repaid  for  the  latter  services 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  141 

He  showed  us  two  Bibles  which  he  received  the  day  before  yes 
terday,  one  in  manuscript,  one  thousand  one  hundred  years  old, 
illuminated  on  parchment !  The  other  in  print,  being  the  first 
edition  of  the  Bible  in  1440.  The  former  was  presented  by  a 
monk  from  the  convent  of  Mt.  Sinai  in  Egypt,  and  the  latter  by 
,  priest  from  the  monastery  of  Vallambrosa,  near  Florence.  He 
afforded  protection  to  these  priests  during  the  siege.  Poor  fellows ! 
He  could  not  persuade  them  to  sleep  in  his  bed,  but  they  would 
sleep  under  it,  in  humiliation  and  fear.  The  first  Bible  is  one 
of  the  rarest  things  of  the  kind  known.  One  of  the  capital  letters 
was  under  process  of  illumination  it  is  said  for  a  year.  No  one 
but  an  old  cloistered,  patient  monk,  could  have  made  it.  The 
Vatican  boasts  of  but  one  more  ancient  than  the  above  manu 
script  Bible.  It  is  a  Bible  in  the  capitals  of  the  sixth  century  ; 
but  it  does  not  compare  with  this,  as  a  specimen.  The  Secretary 
of  State  offered  $800  for  it,  to  place  it  in  the  Vatican. 

Priests  meet  us  on  every  hand.  Rome  is  thronged  with 
them.  As  I  write  long  processions  of  monks  in  black  and  white 
crape,  and  in  brown  robes,  move  under  our  window,  chanting 
for  the  dead  body  which  they  bear.  Some  rich  man  has  died, 
and  left  a  paul  a  piece  to  these  poor  monks,  to  sing  his  soul  out 
of  purgatory. 

I  passed  upon  the  Corso  one  of  a  fraternity  composed  of  the 
noble  and  rich,  completely  hid  in  a  rough  sack,  with  two  holes 
in  it  for  his  eyes.  He  was  on  a  mission  of  mercy,  begging  for 
the  poor  and  afflicted.  It  was  one  of  the  peculiar  sights  of  the 
Catholic  metropolis.  A  procession  of  similar  penitents,  guarded 
by  soldiers  with  lighted  candles,  passed  yesterday  up  to  St. 
Peter's. 

A  brisk  correspondence  has  been  lately  going  on  between 
the  Papal  and  Austrian  ministers,  in  relation  to  the  troops  of 
Austria.  Austria  had  quartered  in  the  States  of  the  Church 
30.000  men  at  an  expense  of  over  $100.000  per  month.  The 
Papal  Secretary  wrote  to  the  Austrian,  that  at  the  present,  cir 
cumstances  and  the  budget  demanded  a  reduction  of  the  troops 


142  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

to  ten  thousand.  The  Austrian  replied,  that  the  present  pos 
ture  of  affairs  required  the  presence  of  all.  The  Secretary  re 
joined  that  the  Papacy  were  the  judges  of  that.  The  matter 
has  been  left  to  the  arbitrament  of  the  French  minister,  who 
will  certainly  side  with  the  Papacy,  and  then  look  out  for  squalls 
in  the  camps.  Austria  cannot  yield  her  influence  at  Rome. 
France  is  keenly  jealous  of  hers  ;  and  it  is  shrewdly  suspected, 
in  more  places  than  in  England,  that  her  policy  is  to  colonize 
Rome  with  French,  and  reduce  the  Eternal  City  to  a  dependency 
upon  herself.  And  so  they  play  the  game — knocking  Popery, 
as  boys  do  a  ball  at  "  two-hole  cat,"  between  them.  I  would 
like  to  remain  here  a  little  longer  to  see  the  sweetness  of  this 
union  of  Church  and  State  in  other  phases. 

Two  cases  illustrative  of  the  nature  of  this  government 
have  come  under  my  eye.  We  found  our  Minister  yesterday 
in  hot  water  over  the  case  of  a  lady  from  America,  who  was 
about  to  be  imprisoned  by  the  police,  because  her  villainous 
servant  had  run  up  bills  which  she  would  not  pay.  A  servant 
at  the  Hotel,  Dominichino  Pollano,  who  is  a  Piedrnontese  and 
speaks  English,  just  received  a  passport  to  leave  Rome  in  three 
days — why  ?  He  was  a  Republican.  We  intend  to  '  annex ' 
him  to  our  company,  and  take  him  to  a  land  of  liberty. 

How  beautiful  and  benignant  seems  our  own  Constitution, 
which  holds  aloft  from  the  power  of  priest,  whether  in  surplice 
or  white  neckerchief,  the  Palladium  of  our  liberty.  We  had 
Lord  Baltimore  and  Roger  Williams,  early  in  America,  while 
in  Europe,  contemporaneously,  persecution  wielded  the  sword 
of  the  magistrate,  and  even  gloried  in  indiscriminate  massacre. 

By  the  way,  that  reminds  me  of  the  settlement  of  a  ques 
tion,  long  mooted  by  the  Protestant  and  Catholic  reviews. 
The  former  contended  that  the  Pope  had  a  coin  struck  in 
honor  of  the  massacre  of  St.  Batholomew.  It  was  denied 
strenuously  by  humane  Catholics.  Last  week,  Mr.  Cass  found 
at  the  Papal  mint,  one  of  the  coins  with  symbols  upon  it,  re 
presenting  the  Destroying  Angel  vindicating  God's  church. 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  143 

Far  better  were  it,  if  such  illustrations  of  human  depravity 
were  always  as  rare  as  that  long  questionable  coin.  Even  in 
this  little  squib  theological  about  a  coin,  we  see  the  greatest 
passions  of  mankind  in  the  arena.  One  side  is  ready  to  be 
lieve  all  wrong,  the  other  all  right.  From  opposite  sides  they 
approach  human  nature ; 

"  And  would  have  fought  even  to  the  death  to  attest 
The  quality  of  the  metal  which  they  saw." 

Between  all  extremes,  few  look  for  truth  in  the  middle ;  yet 
there  it  lies  all  golden  in  its  neglected  placer.  Men  move  over 
it  for  centuries,  too  proud  to  stoop  down  and  winnow,  with  the 
purity  of  reason,  the  rich  ingot  from  the  dirt  and  dross. 

11.  PALACE  OF  NERO  AND  THE  CHURCH  OF  LATERAN. 

The  palace  of  Nero,  which  we  first  visited  yesterday,  lies 
beyond  the  Coliseum,  in  the  southern  part  of  Rome,  amidst  the 
arches  of  triumph,  and  the  ruined  aqueducts.  We  pass  to  it, 
down  that  sacred  way,  which  Horace  was  accustomed  to  walk, 
meditans  nugarum,  he  did  not  know  what.  We  did  not  follow 
his  example.  These  scenes  were  not  trifles  to  us;  but  stern 
mementoes  of  fallen  might. 

The  custodian,  who  is  ever  ready  when  a  few  pauls  are  to  be 
made,  lighted  his  torches ;  and  we  began  to  descend  through 
those  chambers  wherein  dwelt  the  worst  of  men,  and  the  most 
brutal  of  Emperors.  The  rubbish  and  dust  had  been  removed 
from  the  damp  cool  vaults  ;  and  by  our  torches  we  could  discern 
upon  the  faded  walls  the  ancient  paintings,  and  beneath  our  feet 
splendid  mosaics.  Nero's  "  Corridor  of  Thought"  was  shown  us, 
where  the  fell  monster  was  accustomed  to  aggravate  his  hellish 
deeds  by  meditation.  We  were  shown  his  old  bath-rooms. 
These  were  all  filled  up  by  Titus,  who  built  a  palace  above 
them.  The  caterpillars  and  lizards  abounded  in  every  point 
where  light  could  penetrate.  Tt  was  in  this  place  that  the  famous 
statue  of  Laocoon  was  found. 


144  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

How  strange  is  it,  that  all  these  ancient  sites  can  be  deter 
mined  with  even  more  certainty  than  the  corners  and  monuments 
of  our  quarter  sections.  Not  strange  either,  when  I  remember 
that  I  saw  to-day,  at  the  Capitol,  inserted  in  the  walls  of  the 
old  Senate  House,  a  great  number  of  stone  tablets,  or  plats  of 
the  ancient  city,  which  were  dug  up  in  a  perfect  state ;  and  by 
means  of  which,  one  point  being  given,  all  may  be  determined. 

The  money  of  princes  and  nobles  has  been  prodigally  ex 
pended  in  excavating  and  disinterring ;  so  that  the  floors  of  most 
of  the  ancient  temples  have  been  reached,  and  something  con 
firmatory  of  their  identity  has  been  found.  The  Koman  villas, 
the  palaces  and  the  Vatican,  abound  in  inscriptions  and  monu 
ments  dug  from  the  various  structures  of  antiquity. 

We  went  to  the  Basilica  of  St.  John  Lateran,  farther  out  to 
the  southeast.  This  is  the  oldest  Christian  church,  and  takes 
precedence  even  of  St.  Peter's.  Constantine  founded  it.  It 
contains  some  precious  relics.  It  ought  to,  as  it  is  over  fifteen 
hundred  years  old.  While  the  monks  were  chanting  under  the 
lighted  candles,  we  looked  at  the  colossal  marble  statues  of  the 
Apostles  ;  were  shown  the  same  table  upon  which  the  last  supper 
was  taken  ;  the  stone  upon  which  the  four  soldiers  cast  lots  ;  the 
broken  pillars  of  the  temple ;  the  impression  of  the  Saviour's 
feet  when  he  appeared  to  St.  Peter,  to  warn  him  of  his  approach 
ing  death  ;  the  well  of  the  woman  of  Samaria,  with  some  crosses  (?) 
on  it ;  the  slab  under  which  the  Saviour  stood  to  measure  his 
height ;  and  a  hole  in  a  board  made  by  the  miraculous  fall  of  a 
consecrated  wafer,  from  the  hand  of  one  who  doubted  the  real 
presence  !  "  Can  such  things  be.  and  overcome  us  like  a  summer 
cloud,  without  our  special  wonder."  I  had  the  audacity,  lawyer- 
fashion,  to  cross-examine  one  of  the  monks  as  to  the  identity  of 
the  relics.  A  seraphic  smile  of  pity  for  my  incredulity  broke 
over  his  Italian  visage,  as  he  assured  me,  that  there  was  no 
question  as  to  the  authenticity  of  these  marvels.  The  vault  of 
this  church  is  gilt  with  the  first  gold  brought  by  Spain  from 
Peru,  and  gleams  finely  from  the  lofty  ceiling. 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  145 

After  visiting  the  sacristy,  we  emerged  again  into  the  region 
of  ruins  ;  in  which  men  in  long  gowns  were  sweating  under  loads 
of  hay,  raising  it  aloft  among  the  chambers  of  ancient  power. 
My  risibles  were  excited  by  a  strange-looking  set  of  little  trot 
ters,  over  which  was  a  load  of  hay,  a  man,  and  behind  a  boy. 
The  animal  was  the  patient  donkey ;  about  the  size  of  a  good 
dog.  He  does  most  of  the  work  here.  I  noticed  that  the  wheat 
harvest  had  already  begun,  although  it  is  about  the  first  of  June, 
and  Rome  is  farther  north  than  Ohio. 

I  never  saw  such  a  collection  of  lassitudinous  mortality  as 
lay.  about  noon,  under  the  shadow  of  the  wine  shops  near  the 
Tiber.  Some  were  prone  and  asleep  upon  the  soft  side  of  a 
marble  slab,  with,  very  likely,  an  ancient  pillar  for  a  pillow. 
Some  hung  their  unshaven  faces  and  uncut  heads  upon  their 
breasts — pictures  of  the  last  Romans  ! 

12.   THE  CAPITOL  AND  THE  TARPEIAN  ROCK. 

After  examining  various  ruins,  we  again  ascended  Capitol 
hill,  through  the  forum  ;  and  began  our  examination  of  the  fine 
collection  of  antiques,  pictures,  sculptures  and  frescoes.  The 
buildings  on  the  Capitol  piazza  were  designed  by  Michael  An- 
gelo.  Like  most  of  the  present  buildings,  they  are  so  built,  as 
to  include  a  part  of  the  old  buildings,  upon  whose  sites  they  are 
erected.  We  first  entered  the  senate-room  of  old  Rome.  The 
temple  of  Jupiter  stood  here.  Its  pillars,  however,  are  now  to 
be  seen  adorning  numerous  churches.  The  battle  pieces  illus 
trating  Roman  history  gleam  from  the  wall.  Laws,  written 
upon  marble,  and  from  which  Rienzi  demonstrated  the  ancient 
popular  rights  of  Roman  citizens,  are  inlaid  upon  the  walls  of 
the  staircases.  The  busts  of  the  Emperors  and  of  the  philoso 
phers  are  separately  congregated.  Chambers  are  set  apart  in 
good  taste,  for  statues  of  particular  classes,  among  which  is  the 
splendid  collection  of  Canova's  busts.  In  one  of  the  rooms  we 
found  the  famous  bronze  wolf,  a  monument  of  early  art,  which 
has  given  rise  to  many  learned  disquisitions.  It  was  found  un- 


146  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

der  the  rubbish  of  the  Capitol.  Cicero  and  Virgil  have  rendered 
it  classic  in  Latin  ;  and  Byron  has  given  to  its  honor,  one  of  his 
rich  stanzas,  which  I  read  to  the  old  animal,  charging  her  to 

"  Guard  her  immortal  cubs,  nor  her  fond  charge  forget" 

Romulus  and  Remus  are  drawing  from  her  kindness  the  milk  of 
conquest.  One  of  her  legs  is  torn  by  lightning,  by  which  she 
has  been  recognised  as  the  thunder-stricken  foster-mother  of  the 

babes. 

Paintings  from  the  finest  masters  allure  the  eye,  but 
number  renders  it  impossible  to  describe,  or  even  to  remember 
them.  The  celebrated  '  Hope,'  by  Guido,  is  here.  A  fine  copy 
of  it  attracted  our  attention,  and  we  succeeded  in  obtaining  it. 
Passing  through  the  hall  of  bronzes,  glancing  at  the  colossal  and 
miniature  forms  of  gods  and  heroes  thick  as  autumnal  leaves  on 
every  side,  we  are  at  last  ushered  into  the  room  of  the  "  Dying 
Gladiator."  It  is  not  alone  immortalized  by  its  perfections  of 
form,  attitude  and  expression,  but  by  the  touching  pathos  of 
Byron's  description.  It  is  a  ivoundcd  man,  dying.  This  idea 
is  written  in  every  lineament.  No  one  can  meditate  upon  the 
image,  without  a  feeling  of  melancholy,  even  tearful.  The  pos 
ture  is  so  graceful,  yet  so  gently  yielding  to  the  languor  of 
Death,  that  all  nature  seems  to  have  been  invoked  by  the  artist, 
to  give  unity  and  expression  to  his  idea. 

"  He  leans  upon  his  band — his  manly  brow 
Consents  to  Death,  but  conquers  agony." 

A  nobler  idea  could  not  be  more  beautifully  carved, 
the  highest  attainment  of  that  Art,  which  would  give  to  Soul, 
the  supremacy  over  the  marble  as  well  as  over  pain  itself!     This 
image  is  well  associated  in  our  minds  with  the  grandeur  of  the 

floliseum that  glorious  pile  wherein  gladiatorial  strength  and 

Brutal  cruelty  met  so  fatally  and  so  frequently,  and  where  the 
patience  of  heavenly  martyrdom  shone  resplendent  in  the  agony 
of  Death. 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  [47 

Down  through  dirty  streets,  out  of  whose  high  windows 
clothes  are  drying,  we  pass  to  the  Tarpeian  Rock  !  An  old  wo 
man,  in  a  big  straw  hat,  answers  our  bell.  We  pass  into  a  garden 
of  flowers  and  fig-trees.  Far  down  the  yellow  waters  of  the  Ti 
ber,  not  so  large  as  our  own  Muskingum,  wind  under  a  slight 
scarf  of  mist,  while  on  the  left,  beyond  those  great  piles  of  mas 
sive  ruins,  known  as  the  baths  of  Caracalla,  and  between  them 
and  the  blue,  but  dim  hills  of  distant  Frescati,  sweeps  the  Cam- 
pagna.  We  approach  the  precipice,  "  whence  the  Traitor's  leap 
cured  all  ambition."  It  was  some  seventy  feet  in  height.  It 
consists  of  a  mass  of  volcanic  tufa.  But  it  is  greatly  filled  up 
now.  Beneath  us  are  the  crockery  roofs  of  little  houses.  The 
rocks,  like  most  of  the  ruins,  are  terraced  off  and  used  for  raising 
vegetables.  Where  the  great  criminals  of  Rome  received  their 
punishment,  a  few  old  women,  with  knitting  needles  at  play, 
guard  a  wooden  door.  We  plucked  a  few  flowers  as  souvenirs  of 
this  remarkable  locality. 

13.  GRAVES  OF  SHELLEY  AND  KEATS. 

We  should  not  forget  our  visit  to  the  temple  of  Bacchus, 
which  was  a  preface  to  our  tenth  day's  experience  in  Rome. 
While  looking  at  the  strange  wine-jugs  and  mosaics,  we  were 
compelled  to  listen  to  the  clucking  of  frightened  chickens  and 
the  gobble  of  unromantic  turkeys.  We  saw  where  the  Horatii 
and  Curatii  fought,  and  we  threaded  the  great  halls  of  Cara- 
calla's  baths,  in  which  large  numbers  of  peasants  were  making 
hay.  amid  ruined  walls.  Here  SHELLEY  used  to  wander  and 
clamber,  while  he  composed  his  "  Prometheus."  That  noble  poem 
was  chiefly  written  upon  what  he  called,  from  its  magnitude,  the 
mountainous  ruins  of  Caracalla,  and  among  the  flowery  glades  and 
thickets  of  odoriferous  blossoming  trees,  which  are  extended  in 
every  winding  labyrinth  upon  its  immense  platforms  and  dizzy 
arches  suspended  in  the  air.  The  bright  blue  sky  of  Rome,  and 
the  effect  of  the  vigorous  awakening  spring,  and  the  new  life  with 


148  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

which  it  drenches  the  spirit  even  to  intoxication,  he  says,  were 
the  inspiration  of  the  drama. 

Alas  for  poor  SHELLEY  !  Rome  was  to.  him  the  scene  of  a 
sadder  drama,  in  the  last  act  of  which,  the  drapery  of  the  life  he 
so  earnestly  dedicated  to  Beauty,  was  dropped  for  ever.  We  vis 
ited  his  burial-place  in  the  old  English  grave-yard.  We  found 
the  "  cors  cordium"  engraven  with  his  name,  and  the  verses  which 
symbolized  his  change  "  into  something  rich  and  strange," — upon 
a  plain,  flat,  almost  black  marble  slab.  A  few  tall  cypresses 
wave  above  it,  while  near  and  almost  covering  it,  is  an  old  ruin 
above  the  wall.  The  snails  and  caterpillars  lazily  crawl  over  the 
memorial.  Near  it,  is  a  proud  monument  to  some  Englishman, 
killed  in  hunting  over  the  Campagna.  Around,  are  graceful 
stones  and  elegant  monuments  to  the  unknown,  as  far  eclipsing 
the  humble  slab  of  SHELLEY,  as  his  name  does  theirs.  Chaplets 
hang  on  theirs.  None  on  his.  No  flowers  decorate  the  spot, 
where  the  heart  of  SHELLEY  sleeps  from  its  fitful  throbbing. 
The  wind  moans  piteously  in  the  funereal  cypress  above  him. 
Joy  seems  to  hover  over  every  other  grave.  Neat  box-wood 
hedges  surround  other  stones.  Even  the  great  pyramid  of  Caius 
Cestus  upon  the  right,  is  decorated  with  green  and  flowers. 
But  the  narrow  home  of  SHELLEY'S  heart  is  bare  and  flowerless, 
black  and  gloomy.  Can  it  be  that  this  apparent  neglect  springs 
from  prejudice  against  the  young  skeptic  SHELLEY?  Is  the 
grave  of  him  who  wrote  "  Queen  Mab"  to  be  slighted,  and  shall 
no  flower  grow  over  that  heart  that  sang  the  "  hymn  to  intellect 
ual  beauty  ?"  Ye  birds  that  charmed  so  sweetly  the  soul  of 
poetry  in  SHELLEY  living,  have  ye  no  carols  for  his  repose  ?  Yes, 
yes — before  we  can  leave  the  spot,  or  brush  the  tear  from  the 
eye,  a  blithe  spirit,  bird-shaped — but 

"  Bird  them  never  wert — " 

with  the  gush  of  melody  such  as  SHELLEY'S  own  sky-lark  car 
ried  up  to  the  gates  of  heaven  from  her  dell  of  dew,  began  a 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  149 

song  of  rare  music  from  the  heart  of  the  cypress,  relieved  the 
sombre  gloom  of  his  tomb  and  kindled  rapture  in  the  soul ! 

Plucking  a  twig  of  cypress,  we  passed  into  the  other  grave 
yard,  where  the  body  of  JOHN  KEATS  lies.  The  yard  is  grassy, 
surrounded  by  and  surmounting  old  Roman  streets.  No  trees 
shade  the  small  upright  marble  which  tells  so  sadly  of  him.  whose 
name  was  not  writ  in  water.  A  few  poppies  and  yellow  flowers, 
emblematic  of  his  "  Sleep  and  Poesy,"  grew  from  the  sunken 
mould.  A  short  inscription  told  of  the  bitterness  of  his  critics 
and  the  sensibility  of  his  heart.  But  we  feel  that  the  fine  Gre 
cian  soul  of  KEATS  lingers  not  about  this  resting-place  of  his 
mortal  remains.  Doth  it  not  burn  where  SHELLEY  saw  it  through 
the  inmost  vale  of  heaven  ? 

"  The  soul  of  Adonais  like  a  star 
Beacons  from  the  abode  where  the  eternal  are." 

We  leave  the  graves  of  SHELLEY  and  KEATS  with  a  mournful 
step.  The  place  of  their  repose,  amidst  the  relics  of  Roman 
glory ;  the  similarity  of  their  genius  and  destiny,  and  the  com 
panionship  they  bear  in  the  neglect  of  their  countrymen,  make 
their  resting-place  the  most  interesting  tombs  in  the  world. 
Immortality  more  fadeless  than  marble,  has  placed  their  image 
in  its  Pantheon  of  poetry  ! 

The  church  of  St.  Sebastian  contains  nothing  in  itself  won 
derful.  We  visited  it  for  the  subterranean  catacombs,  which  ex 
tend  (incredible  as  it  may  seem),  twenty  miles  around  and  be 
neath  Rome.  A  brown-clad,  red-nosed,  cross-eyed,  Franciscan  lit 
our  torches,  and  we  descended  with  him  into  these  receptacles 
of  the  dead.  After  winding  where  the  old  thieves,  of  which 
Cicero  speaks,  were  accustomed  to  hide,  and  where  the  ancient 
Christians  also  were  concealed,  we  were  at  last  relieved  by  day 
light.  I  am  not  partial  to  such  underground  promenades,  with 
tallow  candles  and  a  sinister  priest.  Here  was  once  the  tombs 
of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul.  We  returned  home  past  the  per 
fect  little  temple  of  Vesta,  near  the  Tiber ;  gazed  into  the  light 


150  ROME,   LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

yellow  stream,  wondered  at  the  self-regulating  fishing-net,  moved 
by  the  water,  a  Yankee-Romanism  ;  passed  through  the  region 
of  cobblers — all  at  work  out  doors,  and  as  queer  a  group  as  ever 
I  saw ;  noted  the  babies,  whose  little  heads  peeped  out  of  great 
bundles  of  swaddling-cloths,  looking  like  infantile  live  mummies, 
under  manifold  wrappages  ;  turned  our  eyes  on  the  numerous 
shrines  which  lined  the  different  ways ;  mingled  with  priests  in 
black  broad  brims,  and  with  French  soldiers  ;  saw  the  famous 
arch  of  Janus,  over  2.500  years  old,  running  300  yards  to  the 
Tiber,  and  full  of  crystal  water  from  Egeria,  which  the  poor 
were  carrying  away  for  its  virtue  ;  and  with  our  mosaics,  our 
flowers,  our  memories  and  wonderments,  we  sought  repose  in  the 
hotel. 

14.   THE  PAUL,  AND  THE  PALACES. 

The  paul  (a  small  piece  of  money  equivalent  to  our  dime)  is 
a  potent  agent  in  Rome.  It  has  magic.  Prince  Arthur's  horn 
could  hardly  do  more,  as  an  "  Open  Sesame  "  to  the  portals  of 
beauty  and  antiquity  here.  What  Spenser  says  of  the  horn,  we 
may  as  truly  say,  with  little  alteration,  of  the  paul ; 

"  No  gate  so  strong,  no  lock  so  firm  and  fast, 
But  with  its  jingling  noise  flew  open  quite  or  brast." 

The  palaces  of  the  Pope  and  of  the  nobility,  the  churches, 
the  tombs,  the  baths,  the  villas  and  the  temples, — every  thing  in 
Rome  opens  with  the  palm  which  clasps  the  paul.  Whether  it  is 
the  dark  rooms  where  Nero  meditated  his  cruelty  to  Christians, 
and  Mecsenas  his  kindness  to  poets ;  whether  it  is  in  the  old 
church  of  St.  John  Lateran,  which  Constantino  founded,  or  the 
temple  of  Bacchus,  now  adorned  with  an  hundred  paintings  of 
martyrs  in  misery  ;  whether  the  Tarpeian  rock,  at  which  the  trai 
tor  trembled  ;  whether  it  is  Saint  Sebastian  with  its  gloomy  cat 
acombs,  or  its  neighbor,  St.  Paul,  about  to  boast  the  most  splen 
did  pillars  of  alabaster  the  world  ever  saw  ;  whether  the  grounds 


,  LI  V 'AVtf  ANJJ   DEAD.  151 

where  KEATS  and  SHELLEY  lie  in  their  silent  homes, — even  at 
the  Capitol  itself,  where  dignity  in  the  person  of  the  old  Roman 
Senators,  more  potent  than  arms,  beat  back  the  invading  Goths, 
— in  every  place  of  pride,  power  and  antiquity,  the  obliging 
Italian,  more  courteous  than  the  Frenchman,  bows  you  an  en 
trance,  and  gracefully  takes  your — pauls  !  Saint  Paul — not 
Saint  Peter,  should  be  the  presiding  saint  of  Rome.  No  one 
can  complain  that  his  orisons  are  not  answered  with  such  inter 
cession.  Let  it  be  said,  to  the  eternal  honor  of  the  eternal  city, 
that  among  its  characteristics  is  an  eternal  opening  of  galleries, 
villas  and  palaces,  and  an  eternal  outlay  of  pauls  therefor. 

A  few  pauls  opens  for  us  the — palace  of  the  Caesars  !  Shak- 
speare,  in  the  person  of  Hamlet  if  I  remember  rightly  (I  have 
no  pocket  editions  along),  made  imagination  trace  the  noble  dust 
of  Csesar  stopping  the  bung-hole  of  a  beer  barrel.  Shakspeare 
did  not  see  the  reality  of  the  Caesarean  humility.  We  felt  it, 
as  we  trampled  on  the  sacred  dust  of  the  imperial  palaces,  for 
a  paul  apiece.  We  marched  over  the  grounds  on  which  Augus 
tus  built ;  over  the  houses  of  Cicero,  Hortensius,  and  Claudius, 
which  Tiberius  increased,  to  which  Nero  added  his  golden  house 
and  Titus  his  beautiful  palace ;  trampling  amid  the  cypress  and 
rose  walks,  ilex,  grape-vines  and  red  flowering  pomegranates,  peas 
and  beans,  and  over  arch  reared  on  arch,  and  choked  up  vaults, 
in  which  midnight  keeps  perpetual  silence  ;  and  around  all  which 
creeping  vines  and  yellow  flowers  cling, — and  all  comprising 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  in  circuit — for  the  which  we  paid — two 
pauls  !  Royalty  in  ruins  is  cheap.  Royalty  in  splendor  will  be 
cheaper  than  that,  in  the  "good  time."  This  palace  is  on  the 
Palatine  hill.  The  temple  of  Apollo  was  formerly  connected 
with  it.  A  very  singular  Chinese  house,  built  by  Mr.  Mills, 
who  "  owns  the  fee  "  to  the  palace,  is  the  prominent  object  above 
the  ruins.  Among  other  places  of  interest  we  were  shown  by 
our  guide  Stefano,  the  bath  where  Seneca  bled  to  death.  The 
compartments  of  this  palace  are  immense.  Villas  and  gardens 
spread  out  over  them  on  every  side :  yet  the  position  is  promi- 


152  HOME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

nent  even  now.  From  almost  any  part  one  may  range  in  vision 
far  to  the  south,  from  the  Coliseum,  the  Campagna.  the  pyramid 
of  Cestius,  the  Sepulchre  of  Metella,  even  to  the  Albanian  and 
Tusculan  hills.  Below  us— far  below,  are  the  Farnese  Gardens, 
elegantly  laid  off.  Under  us,  wherein  were  enacted  scenes  of 
power,  whose  effect  flashed  from  the  Thames  to  the  Danube,  you 
may  find  peasants  in  long  coarse  shirts,  sweating  under  the  hot 
hay  which  they  are  lugging  into  the  stables  !  Fortune  turns  her 
ever-shifting  wheel. — the  king  goes  down,  the  peasant  up  ! 

15.  FOUNTAIN  OF  EGERIA. 

How  refreshingly  different  in  fact  and  association  is  the 
fountain  of  Egeria,  which  we  visited  shortly  after.  Through 
freshly-mowed  fields  of  hay,  over  gentle  undulations,  and  under 
cordial  umbrage  of  orchard  trees,  we  found  our  way  into  the  vale 
of  Nurna's  nymph.  Turning  around  a  hill,  and  passing  down, 
we  stand  pleased  to  hear  the  dripping  and  gushing  of  water. 
Farther  along,  and  we  see  under  an  overhanging  hill  of  foliage 
and  flowers,  the  classic  fountain.  Its  presiding  goddess  is  broken, 
but  her  reclining  form  is  still  visible.  Stone  paves  surround 
her,  upon  which  the  lucid  lymph  gushes  and  sprays.  Of  course 
we  drank  the  water.  We  would  not  show  the  least  disrespect 
to  the  spirit  of  Nature,  which  Numa  quaffed  in  such  glorious 
goblets  at  the  hands  of  the  nymph,  and  from  the  influence  of 
which  Koine  received  her  first  great  impulse.  The  eternal 
"  rub-a-dub-WE"  of  the  French  soldiery  reminds  me,  as  I  write, 
for  the  hundredth  time,  that  the  people  who  stole  the  female 
Sabines,  and  respected  Numa,  have  most  wretchedly  deteriorated. 
While  in  Egeria's  pleasant  vicinage,  which  brings  Ohio  to 
mind  at  every  step,  we  might  describe  Metella's  tomb,  so  cele 
brated  by  Byron's  stanzas.  You  know  how  sweetly  and  touch- 
ingly  he  puts  the  queries  about  her  incognito  as  to  character, 
wondering  who  she  was — "  the  lady  of  the  dead" — whether  she 
died  young  in  beauty,  with  the  hectic  light  upon  her  cheek  ;  or 


ROME,  LIVING   AND  DEAD.  153 

old — surviving  all  her  kindred ;  and  winding  up  with  the  unsat 
isfactory  conclusion — 

"Thus  much  alone  we  know — Metella  died, 
The  wealthiest  Roman's  wife. 
Behold  his  love  or  pride!" 

A  conspicuous  tomb,  ivy-garlanded,  70  feet  in  diameter,  solid 
with  walls  25  feet  through — it  has  stood  stronger  than  the  for 
tresses  of  power,  for  nineteen  centuries  ! 

16.   THE  PANTHEON. 

You  must  pardon  my  omitting  many  lesser  beauties,  for  the 
Pantheon  is  the  central  orb  around  which  all  revolve,  and  by 
which  they  all  shine.  But  who  is  not  familiar  with  the  Pan 
theon  ?  Eighteen  centuries  ago  it  was  described  with  admira 
tion.  Fire,  pillage,  flood  and  rain  have  wasted  their  efforts  in 
vain.  Its  beauty  seems  destined  to  be  a  glory  for  ever.  So 
perfect  are  its  proportions,  that  Pagan  and  Christian,  Greek  and 
Vandal,  alike  found  in  it  the  spirit  of  beauty,  which  is  common 
to  all  God's  creatures.  Hence  its  singular  preservation.  It  is 
only  143  feet  in  diameter,  and  143  feet  high.  The  portico  is 
composed  of  sixteen  columns  of  oriental  granite,  with  capitals 
and  bases  of  Greek  marble.  Each  column  is  about  50  feet  high. 
The  great  bronze  doors  speak  of  classic  times.  The  interior  of 
the  temple  is  a  rotunda,  supporting  a  dome  one  half  of  the 
height,  or  1\\  feet.  Niches  surround,  which  Michael  Angelo 
gracefully  converted  from  places  for  Pagan  deities  into  places 
for  saints  and  martyrs.  Only  one  of  the  old  pieces  of  statuary 
remains — an  ancient  Vestal,  now  bedizened  with  the  frippery 
of  jewels,  and  answering  as  the  presiding  saint  of  a  shrine,  before 
which  numbers  bow  in  silent  adoration.  The  dome  rises  majes 
tically,  and  is  divided  into  square  panels,  originally  covered  with 
bronze.  Every  thing  in  the  shape  of  metal  has  been  removed, 
save  the  brass  ring  which  supports  the  aperture  above.  The 
effect  of  this  rising  dome,  and  the  open  space,  is  very  imposing. 


154  ROUE,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

The  clouds  are  seen  floating  over  the  miracle  of  architecture,  like 
fairy  ships  in  a  sea  of  azure.  The  eye  and  the  dome  swim  with 
them,  dizzily  entranced.  The  sunlight,  spiritually  thin  and  trans 
parent,  slants  in  beauty  through  the  aperture,  and  down  the  swell 
ing  dome,  illumining  a  shrine  and  a  marble  saint.  Apollo  seems 
enamored  of  the  place,  and  fills  it  with  his  presence. 

The  perfection  of  architecture  is  said  to  consist  in  the  ability 
of  the  columns  to  support  the  entablature ;  just  as  that  wall  is 
perfect  which  supports  the  roof.  The  idea  of  utility  is  connected 
with  that  of  beauty.  Out  of  their  marriage,  in  "  sweet  union 
doubled,"  springs  Harmony.  This  harmony  breathes  in  the 
Pantheon..  It  extends  from  the  portico  to  the  smallest  capital ; 
from  the  largest  niche  to  the  nicest  tracery  ;  from  the  swelling 
dome  to  the  majestic  whole.  It  is  the  grace  and  charm  of  the 
Pantheon.  It  is  the  fit  tomb  for  Raphael,  whose  sublime  genius 
towered  so  finely  to-day,  as  we  gazed  on  his  "  Transfiguration." 
His  remains  are  under  one  of  the  shrines,  before  which  a  ghostly 
father  was  saying  mass.  Annibal  Carrachi  also  lies  here  in  his 
company. 

One  of  the  first  things  which  attracted  our  wonder  was,  that 
so  large  a  temple  seemingly,  should  be  so  small  in  fact.  This  is 
designed.  Madame  de  Stael  says,  that  it  proceeds  from  the 
great  space  between  the  pillars,  and  from  the  air  playing  so 
freely  within,  and  still  more  from  the  absence  of  ornament,  with 
which  St.  Peter's  is  surcharged.  This  latter  fact  will  account  for 
the  seemingly  small  appearance  of  St.  Peter's,  compared  to  its 
actual  size.  But  in  the  Pantheon  every  concomitant  is  present, 
to  make  it 

"  Simple,  erect,  severe,  austere,  sublime, — 
Shrine  of  all  saints  and  temple  of  all  Gods 
From  Jove  to  Jesus — spared  and  blessed  by  Time ; 
Looking  tranquillity ! " 

Passing  out  of  the  Pantheon,  you  will  find  the  step  to  the 
ridiculous  at  its  door,  where  an  herb-market,  a  puppet-show,  a 
crowd  around  a  fiddler,  and  a  "  natural  panram,"  as  our  guide 


ST.  PETER'S,   FROM  THE  JANICULUM. 


ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD.  155 

termed  it,  are  presented.  The  hurly-burly  of  old  women,  and 
the  chaffering  of  buyers  of  cherries,  radishes,  apricots,  etc.,  rise 
amid  the  plash  of  fountains.  Rome  is  never  without  these  latter 
beauties.  Here,  aqueducts -are  copious  and  clear.  After  enter 
ing  a  palace  or  so — among  which  is  the  Rospigliosi,  where  we 
saw  Guide's  splendid  fresco  of  Aurora  being  copied  by  several 
artists — we  ascend,  for  a  closing  view,  the  Janiculum. 

17.    THE  JANICULUM. 

We  pass  by  the  prison  wherein  the  Republicans  are  con 
fined  ;  we  pass  across  the  Tiber,  and  through  the  region  inhab 
ited  by  those  who  call  themselves  the  descendants  of  the  old 
Romans.  I  only  saw  one  of  them.  He  was  over  six  feet  with 
out  boots — wore  baggy,  dirty  linen  pants,  and  a  questionable 
coat.  His  head  gloried  in  a  red  cap.  He  moved  a  Roman 
Ichabod  Crane,  the  ghost  of  Famine,  Campbell's  last  man,  or 
whatever  else  you  please — only  do  not  call  him  an  old  Roman. 
If  you  do,  burn  Tacitus  and  Plutarch. 

We  ascended  into  that  part  of  the  city  where  the  French 
and  Italians  fought.  Men  are  engaged  even  yet  in  mending  the 
wall.  We  can  see  where  it  has  been  breached  and  patched. 
The  picture  which  follows  but  faintly  delineates  the  scene.  The 
so-called  palace  of  Garibaldi,  as  well  as  its  adjacent  buildings, 
are  in  ruins.  Marks  of  musket  and  cannon  balls  are  plenty. 
In  the  finest  gallery  of  Rome — the  marble  room  of  the  Colonna 
Palace — we  saw  a  cannon  ball  lying  upon  a  white  step,  with  the 
marks  of  its  ruin  yet  apparent  in  the  broken  marble.  It  had 
entered  one  of  the  windows.  Every  where  about  Rome,  espe 
cially  on  the  western  side,  are  the  marks  of  no  ordinary,  nay,  of 
a  terrific  struggle.  We  drove  up  to  the  fine  fountain  of  the 
Janiculum ;  saw  far,  far  down,  the  French  cavalry  practising, 
the  colonnades  and  Basilica  of  St.  Peter's,  the  Vatican  with  its 
rich  gardens  and  palaces,  and  all  around  us  that  Campagna, 
which  seems  (as  has  been  beautifully  said)  to  be  wasted,  as  if 


156  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

the  earth,  fatigued  by  Glory,  disdained  to  be  productive.  Pass 
ing  down,  I  observed  a  gravel  mound  by  the  road-side,  with  two 
rough  crosses  of  wood  stuck  on  it.  It  was  the  grave  of  some 
four  hundred  brave  fellows,  (God  bless  them,  for  the  priests  did 
not,  even  refusing  them  decent  burial.)  who  fell  here,  defending 
the  young  liepublic  from  the  invasion  of  perfidious  foes, — foes 
who  should  have  been  friends.  May  the  Avenger — No  !  Injus 
tice,  false  and  foul,  is  ever  its  own  Avenger.  The  human  heart 
contains  the  whip  of  scorpions.  Think  you,  no  tears  water  that 
little  mound — no  curses  are  muttered  over  those  rude  crosses ! 

18.    FAREWELL  TO  ROME. 

Before  leaving  Rome,  we  visited  tne  theatre.  It  is  cheap 
in  price  and  poor  in  quality.  The  box,  to  the  first,  is  only 
fifteen  cents.  It  looked  odd,  that  theatre  did,  under  the  open 
sky,  with  the  seats  of  stone,  and  a  few  hundred  lazily  laughing 
at  a  comedy  which  was  only  pantomime  to  us.  We  could  see 
that  it  was  a  love  scene,  anyhow.  Love  knows  no  language,  you 
know.  For  all  that  we  could  understand  of  what  a  big-whiskered 
servant  in  a  Duke's  disguise  was  saying  to  a  pretty  Baroness, 
enamored  of  his  swaggering  air,  it  might  have  been  as  well  the 
Kickapoo. 

Time  gallops  fast  amidst  orange  groves  and  picture  galleries, 
ruins  and  roses,  Villas  and  Vaticans,  music  and  mosaic.  As 
yet  the  confusion  arising  from  the  multiplicity  of  objects,  all 
intensely  interesting,  prevents  me  from  giving  prominence  where 
all  is  so  beautiful  and  bewitching.  I  could  as  soon  tell  "  which 
nymph  more  neatly  trips  it  before  Apollo  than  the  rest." 

We  are  about  to  close  our  sojourn  at  Rome.  Ten  days  were 
never  as  full  of  incident  to  us.  We  have  mingled  in  every 
variety  of  life,  have  recognized  our  own  kind  in  the  smiles  and 
woes  of  the  oppressed  and  beggared,  have  spared  no  effort  to 
renew  the  great  scenes  which  were  here  enacted,  and  no  pains 
to  learn  the  present  state  of  things  in  this  anomalous  govern 
ment. 


ROME,  LIVING-  AND  DEAD.  157 

These  ruins  and  temples,  relics  of  departed  power, — how 
boldly  do  they  contrast  with  the  scenes  recorded  in  our  chapters 
upon  the  World's  Exhibition !  What  new  phases  have  been 
produced  by  modern  civilization  !  What  strange  elements  of 
life  are  the  offspring  of  Christianity  ! 

Now  farewell  to  Rome.  Upon  this  Sabbath  night  we  leave 
for  Naples.  Right  sorry  are  we  that  we  could  not  wait  till 
Wednesday,  the  time  fixed  by  the  Pope  for  our  presentation  to 
him,  on  the  kindly  application  of  Mr.  Cass.  But  no :  already 
we  are  in  our  vetturino,  parting  the  crowds  at  St.  Peter's  Piazza, 
and  making  toward  the  gate  in  time  to  be  out  before  it  should 
close  for  the  night.  How  finely  Rome,  and  especially  St.  Peter's 
looked  at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  as  we  drove  for  the  last  time 
over  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo.  The  castle  towered  up  round  and 
grand  against  the  sky,  with  its  figure  of  St.  Michael  and  his 
drawn  sword,  standing  out  palpably  beautiful.  The  Basilica  of 
St.  Peter's,  from  which  we  parted  with  regret,  looked  gloomy, 
with  its  long  shadows  and  great  colonnades  ;  but  how  coolly  re 
freshing  was  the  relief  furnished  by  the  twin  colossal  sheafs  of 
water,  bending  over  with  their  rich  harvesting  of  spray. 

We  are  on  the  highway.  A  moon  of  red  and  gold  burst  out 
of  Rome,  to  light  us  over  the  Campagna.  Hushed  and  stilly 
was  the  repose  of  Nature  over  these  plains  which  once  shook 
with  the  tread  of  legions,  and  which  was  once  adorned  with  the 
splendid  residences  of  the  lords  of  the  earth  !  Now  and  then  the 
silence  was  broken  by  the  encouraging  cry  of  the  teamsters,  who 
were  moving  toward  Rome  with  their  loads  of  hay.  We  drove 
past  old  towers  brightened  into  new  life  by  the  light.  We  looked 
timidly  out  for  some  romantic  rascal  of  a  bandit ;  but  the  Cam 
pagna  disdains  such  puny  heroics,  intoxicated  with  its  olden 
glory.  As  we  passed  each  glen,  or  hill,  I  looked  in  vain  for  that 
respectable  personage,  who  has  so  long  resided  in  the  covers  of 
novels  and  in  the  brains  of  boarding-school  misses.  He  was  not 
to  be  seen — that  deep-browed,  whiskered  bandit,  with  his  blouse 
and  sash,  his  sugar-loaf  hat  all  plumed,  and  pistoled  belt,  his  fore 


158  ROME,  LIVING  AND  DEAD. 

foot  planted  firmly,  and  his  profile  painted  dimly  between  the  eye 
and  the  sky — not  he. 

Now  we  pass  a  man  with  a  sharp  ironed  stick,  pricking  tar 
dy  oxen  homeward — now  a  diligence  hurrying  along,  in  muffled 
mystery.  We  hear  a  low,  mellow  sound,  much  like  music  heard 
in  dreams.  As  we  approach  we  see  a  new  moon,  "  dipped,  not 
drowned,"  in  the  Mediterranean  ;  but  broken  into  myriad  lights 
upon  her  mobile  bosom.  Soon  we  halt,  to  rest  upon  the  shore  of 
the  sea,  and  amidst  ruins  upon  which  the  silver  waves  dash,  and 
over  which  they  leap  in  filigree  spray.  Here  romance  may  fill 
her  goblet  and  drain  it  in  gladness.  We  do  not  need  the  bandit, 
to  complete  the  scene.  A  sweet  voice  from  the  auberge  struck 
up  an  Italian  song,  while  I  sat  upon  a  ruin,  writing  at  midnight, 
by  moonlight,  in  my  journal ;  our  ladies  all  the  while  ecstatically 
predisposed,  and  ready  to  fall  in  (love  with)  the  Mediterranean 
for  joy  ! 

The  next  night  we  slept  upon  this  same  sea,  right  soundly, 
in  the  midst  of  moon-lit  waves,  oblivious, — while  our  steamer 
was  bearing  us  southward  to  the  place  where  Beauty  loves  to 
breathe  in  her  own  selectest  home. 


XI. 

;— its  Jimtliira  mift  Inrrnr, 

Hunc  igitur  terrorem  animi  tenebrasque  necesse  est." 


Virgil. 


MY  pen  moves  to  the  soft  and  silver  purling  of  the  waves 
against  this  delicious  shore.  Our  hotel  is  upon  the  Bay  of 
Naples — only  divided  from  its  cerulean  waters  by  a  garden  of 
flowers  walled  in  from  the  sea.  and  against  which  the  gentle  un 
dulations  sing  their  madrigals  of  sweetness.  The  eye  wanders 
over  the  "  most  beautiful  bay  in  the  world,"  now  clothed  in  its 
morning  garment  of  transparent  light ;  while  past  our  window 
the  sail-boats  fly  and  the  oars  flash.  Upon  the  right,  there  rises 
gently  from  the  bay,  hills  of  fruitage.  Naples  swings  about  cir 
cularly,  and  white  as  if  newly  washed.  We  begin  to  realize 
that  there  is  a  lovelier  nature  in  this  sunny  land.  The  breeze 
comes  gently  warm  and  deliciously  laden.  The  sparkle  of  the 
waters  has  more  diamond  points.  The  horizon  kisses  the  hea 
ven  with  a  warmer  blush,  and  the  heaven  bends  over  with  the 
witchery  of  beauty. 

In  a  land  where  the  fruitage  "  drinks  gold  even  from  the 
mid-winter  air,"  it  might  be  expected  that  nature  would  be  richly 
adorned  in  this  middle  .of  June.  The  consummation  of  this 
southern  Italian  scenery  may  find  expression  in  the  familiar 
hymn, 

"  Here  every  prospect  pleases, 
And  only  man  is  vile." 

"We  woke  up  in  the  Bay  of  Naples ;  that  is,  our  boat  was 
therein.  A  band  at  the  fort  was  laboring  as  hard  as  it  could 
with  brass,  to  destroy  the  soft  influences  of  the  place  by  their 


160  NAPLES,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR. 

clangor.  The  jargon  of  boats  assists  the  band.  Naples  lies 
around  us  ;  her  domes  swelling  under  the  loftier  hills,  whose 
trellised  terraces  bespeak  the  favorite  home  of  Bacchus  and  Po 
mona.  White-dressed  soldiers  are  apparent  all  about.  The 
isles  of  the  bay  sleep  sweetly  and  smilingly  under  their  Arachne 
web  of  haze — the  favorite  resorts  of  Lamartine ;  Ischia,  the  home 
of  Graziella ;  Procida  and  Caprae,  the  selectest  spots  wherein 
Paul  and  Virginia  might  fully  know  the  "  unreserve  of  mingled 
being,"  and  where  the  brow  of  nature  is  imbound  with  the 
golden  rigol  of  love  !  Vesuvius,  twin-peaked,  gracefully  rises 
from  the  bay,  with  her  slight  scarf  of  white  smoke  curling  from 
her  top.  Do  you  wonder  that  amid  yon  isles,  set  in  the  spark 
ling  azure,  and  amid  such  a  sweet  circuit  of  beauty,  the  genius  of 
the  French  poet,  wild  as  that  of  Ossian,  and  tender  and  melan 
choly  as  that  of  Rousseau,  dropped  pearls  of  rare  loveliness  ? 

We  are  called  ashore,  and  there,  amid  the  police  and  custom 
house  officers,  the  lazaroni  and  hotel-runners,  we  feel  that  angels 
do  not  people  this  beautiful  land.  Soon  the  lofty  window  of  our 
hotel  becomes  an  observatory,  high  and  aloof  from  all  human 
disturbance,  where  the  eye  and  the  mind,  wearied  as  it  has  been 
with  the  creations  of  art.  can  drink  in  the  spirit  of  this  incom 
parable  scenery.  There  are  no  harsh  edges  or  determinate  out 
lines  of  things ;  but  all  is  blended  into  soft  and  mellow  unison 
— a  harmonious  flow  of  beauty.  The  breeze  breathes  over  the 
bay  in  flickering  shadows,  as  if  a  great  spirit  were  moving  upon 
its  face.  Within  this  amphitheatre  of  rocks  and  groves,  there 
lies  something  deeper  than  mere  imagery.  It  is  the  inner  and 
tranquil  soul  of  beauty — 

"  Deep  bosomed  in  the  still  and  quiet  bay — 
The  sea  reflecting  all  that  glowed  above, 
Till  a  new  sky,  softer,  but  not  so  gay, 

Arcli'd  in  its  bosom,  trembles  like  a  dove." 

But  we  might  for  ever  dwell  upon  tliese  features  of  beauty, 
and  still  receive  no  lasting  good,  no  joy  other  than  that  transient 


,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR,  161 

bound  which  pleasure  brings.  Nobler  influences  should  ema 
nate  from  such  exquisite  external  forms.  If  we  would  feel  the 
':  passion  and  the  life  of  things,"  we  must  perceive  God's  excel 
lency,  love  and  purity,  enshrined,  all  crystalline,  in  the  water 
as  it  rises  in  flowers  of  white  and  falters  into  music  below,  and 
in  the  sky  which  bends  over  in  its  warm  livery  of  lustre.  That 
soul  which  cannot  here  find  new  splendors  in  the  grass,  new 
glories  in  the  flower,  richer  tintings  in  the  fruitage,  love  unut 
terable  in  the  landscape  ;  and  which  cannot  rejoice  with  nature 
in  her  wedding  garment,  and  sing  her  epithalamium,  must  be 
"  dull  as  the  lake  that  slumbers  in  the  storm."  Sensation  here 
becomes  lulled,  form  is  melted,  the  soul  is  transported,  thought 
even  dies  in  enjoyment  •  and  the  hymn  of  praise  rises,  without 
effort,  to  the  first  Good,  first  Perfect,  and  first  Fair.  Is  it  won 
derful  that  the  ancient  Roman  senators  and  citizens  here  ex 
pended  untold  wealth  to  make  Baiae  their  summer  resort  ?  Is 
it  strange  that  Virgil  here  sought  entombment  by  the  sweet 
murmur  of  the  limpid  wave  of  Parthenope  ?  Is  it  curious  that 
Cicero  here  listened  to  the  soft  and  sonorous  lapse  of  the  elo 
quent  sea,  curling  full  and  graceful  as  one  of  his  own  ore  rotundo 
periods  ?  Is  it  startling  that  the  luxurious  people  of  Pompeii 
and  Herculaneum  lingered  here  under  the  very  shadow  of  de 
struction,  spell-bound  by  the  Siren  of  the  shore  ? 

But  stay  !  had  we  a  poet's  pen,  wherewithal  to  lose  oneself 
in  labyrinths  of  sweet  utterance,  there  would  still  remain  that 
"  drainless  shower"  of  beauty,  which  again  I  have  just  seen 
flooding  the  heaven  and  the  earth ;  whose  element  is  light, 
whose  music  is  the  undertone  of  love,  whose  fragrance  is  the 
stilly  prayer  of  the  humble  heart,  and  whose  aspiration  is  to 
walk  with  white-handed  Hope  and  pure-eyed  Faith,  in  such  soft. 
rich  radiance,  where  summer  smiles  ever  in  the  gardens  of  God  ! 
One  should  have  the  golden  flush  of  Landon's  prose,  and  the 
resources  of  Burke's  imagery  ;  the  Grecian  loveliness  of  Keats, 
and  the  fusing  sensibility  of  Byron,  all  elevated  by  the  devotion 
of  sweet  Jeremy  Taylor  ;  or  their  nearest  combined  approxima- 


162  NAPLES,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROH. 

tion  in  the  intense  feeling  of  the  mild  and  lovely,  which  drops 
from  the  pen  of  Lamartine,  to  utter  the  sentiment  and  soul  of 
this  scenery  of  the  south  ! 

Mr.  Cass  showed  me  a  painting  of  Neapolitan  scenery  in  his 
gallery  at  Rome,  which  I  pronounced  an  excellent  Idealism  of 
some  genius  who  had  glimpses  of  celestial  shores,  where  rose- 
tinted  waters  make  melody  on  gems  and  gold.  "  You  had  bet 
ter  wait,  sir,  until  you  see  such  a  heaven  and  such  water  at 
Naples,  before  you  pronounce  this  ideal."  So  I  have.  I  am 
content  to  believe  the  painter  has  failed  to  do  justice  to  the 
original.  I  ordered,  with  his  permission,  a  copy  of  the  land 
scape  by  the  same  painter,  to  take  home  to  my  friends,  as  the 
evidence  of  my  enthusiasm.  "  Oh  !  what  a  goodly  earth  is 
ours  !"  is  the  ready  exclamation  at  each  gaze  from  the  window. 
There  is  music  here  full  and  tender  ;  but  like  that  in  Hamlet's 
flute,  it  cannot  be  brought  out  unless  one  knows  the — stops. 
There  is  beauty  in  that  'bay,  now  glittering  with  pearl  and  ruby, 
amethyst  and  emerald,  turquoise  and  diamond  ;  but  like  those 
gems  in  the  enchanted  cave,  they  must  lie  unseen,  unless  some 
genius  of  magic  would  illumine  my  page  with  Aladdin's  won 
derful  lamp.  I  neither  know  the  flute,  nor  possess  the  lamp  ; 
still  "  sweet  will  be  the  dew  of  these  memories,  and  pleasant  the 
balm  of  their  recollection." 

The  singular  contrast  to  this  beauty  towers  up  above  the 
bay,  and  holds  within  its  molten  heart  the  elements  of  Destruc 
tion.  God  has  implanted  amid  this  garden  the  mountain  of 
Vesuvius,  and  opened  to  the  view  of  the  luxurious  people  the 
ruins  of  buried  cities.  Truly  is  it  said,  the  dwellers  here  live 
upon  the  confines  of  paradise  and  hell  fire  !  We  bear  evidence 
of  both.  Yesterday  we  visited  Vesuvius  and  looked  down  its 
crater  and  saw  there ! 

Before  I  tell  you  what  I  saw,  my  reader  had  better  ascent* 
with  us.  After  engaging  the  good  guide  Antonia,  and  preparing 
a  basket  of  lunch,  we  drive  around  the  shore,  hugging  the  bay 
as  long  as  possible.  Palaces  alternate  with  shops ;  fine  vistas 


NAPLES,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR.  163 

of  orange  gardens  through  high  portals,  succeed  to  dirty  houses, 
at  whose  doors  pigs  and  donkeys  are  tied.  We  pass  the  king's 
palace,  well  guarded  and  frowning.  He  seldom  conies  forth, 
poor  prisoner  ;  for  he  is  afraid  of  being  shot.  Well  he  may  be. 
We  enter  some  fine  piazzas  with  colonnades  ;  but  "  none  to  speak 
of."  after  seeing  St.  Peter's  at  Rome.  It  is  the  hour  of  noon  ; 
and  every  body  is  sleeping,  except  the  ever-laboring  donkeys. 
We  observed  at  the  great  granary,  the  largest  building  in  Na 
ples,  some  hundreds  of  workmen,  all  lying  prone  upon  the 
stones,  asleep — a  strange  group  !  Men  in  long  brown  woollen 
caps,  driving  cows,  oxen  and  donkeys,  sometimes  all  in  one  team, 
hold  the  reins — asleep  ;  and  we  distinctly  saw  one  strapping 
fellow,  ahold  of  his  donkey's  tail — a  common  mode  of  guidance 
here,  walking  along — asleep.  The  rumbling  of  our  carriage 
disturbed  Ks  tiream  of  paradise,  which  consists  of  apricots  and 
maccarcmi.  There  is  one  portion  of  the  population  still  awake, 
that  is,  the  beggars.  Our  carriage  was  thronged  with  them 
when  ne  ptrpped  ;  and  as  we  moved,  they  ran  for  hundreds  of 
yardo,  holding  up  withered  arms,  opening  diseased  eyes,  and 
pifirg  <;heir  theatrical  anguish  most  piteously  Children,  dressed 
in  no  gaudy,  unnatWcU  way,  play  in  the  sun,  in  primitive,  Eden 
ptyle.  The  famous  Neapolitan  curriculo  dashes  along,  loaded  to 
the  top  and  bottom,  with  dozens,  though  seemingly  no  larger 
than  a  go-cart.  The  picturesque  costume  of  the  people  lends  an 
air  of  romance  to  the  drive.  The  brass  harness  of  the  donkeys, 
from  whose  backs  it  rises  in  queer  shape  some  feet,  flashes  in 
the  sun.  These  same  donkeys  perform  other  important  func 
tions  for  the  lazy  people,  some  of  which  are  represented  by  our 
artist,  in  a  happy  style.  It  is  no  caricature  either,  as  I  can 
verify.  Long  lines  of  fruit  venders  are  ranged  along  the  streets. 
Still  we  drive  and  drive,  occasionally  looking  upward,  and  find 
ing  Vesuvius  just  as  near  and  just  as  distant  in  the  clear  air  as 
ever.  The  city  seems  a  never-ending  one.  New-York  is  small 
compared  to  it  in  length.  Its  population  is  more  than  half  a 
million,  it  being  the  third  city  in  Europe. 


164  XAPLJS&f—IT8  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR. 

At  last  we  stop,  after  riding  long  miles.  Our  guide  informs 
us  that  we  are  over  Ilerculaneum  !  A  door  opens,  torches  are 
lighted,  and  our  company  (eight  Americans)  descend.  We  pass 
into  the  great  theatre,  which  is  only  partially  excavated.  Un 
like  Pompeii,  Herculaneum  is  buried  deep,  and  is  not  so  easily 
displayed.  The  grand  entrances  to  the  theatre  and  niches  be 
tween  (wherein  a  marble  statue  was  found),  the  long  circle  of 
corridors,  the  front  of  the  stage,  the  place  for  the  orchestra,  the 
circled  seats  of  stone,  were  all  in  perfect  preservation.  An  im 
press  of  a  mask  or  bust — the  features  finely  marked  in  the  solid 
lava  above  our  heads,  was  seen  by  the  aid  of  our  torches.  We 
passed  into  some  of  the  houses,  which  were  excavated.  The 
old  brick  and  mortar  had  withstood  the  besieging,  burning  lava, 
nobly  ;  but  the  wood  was  charred.  We  were  shown  into  the 
garden  where  an  old  palace  had  been  dug  out.  The  floors  were 
finely  tesselated,  and  the  walls  of  yellow  and  red  still  revealed 
their  quaintly  painted  figures.  The  walls  of  the  city,  at  whose 
base  the  sea  murmured  as  sweetly,  as  now  to  my  ear  it  murmurs 
against  the  wall  of  Naples,  were  pointed  out.  Far  different 
music  it  hissed  and  boiled,  upon  that  fatal  time,  when  the  vic 
torious  molten  elements  of  the  mountain  drove  it  inhospitably 
away.  Plucking  a  flower  from  one  of  the  gardens  of  the  ancient 
city,  which  withered  and  fell,  ere  it  could  be  pressed,  we  con 
tinued  our  drive  through  Portici,  and  up  the  mountain. 

Vesuvius  really  extends  down  to  the  sea ;  but  the  ascent  is 
so  gradual  that  it  is  almost  imperceptible.  One  may,  however, 
trace  the  stream  of  lava  and  the  stratum  of  scoriae  by  the  richness 
of  the  foliage  and  the  sweetness  of  the  bloom.  For  over  an 
hour  we  wound  around,  amid  walls  overhung  with  fruit-trees  and 
vines.  Oranges,  nectarines,  apricots,  big  cherries,  pomegranates 
and  figs,  line  our  upward  way.  What  genius  of  cultivation  could 
equal  this  mountain  side  in  prodigality  ?  What  peculiar  element 
of  fructification  dwells  in  this  volcanic  soil,  and  over  this  burn 
ing  crater  ?  My  knowledge  of  botanical  chemistry  fails  me  in 
these  queries.  The  luscious  fact,  however,  waters  most  tooth- 


NAPLES— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR.  155 

somely  in  the  mouth,  as  apricot,  orange,  and  nectarine  severally 
are  victimized.  The  red  and  gold  of  the  nectarine,  and  the 
melting  glisten  of  its  wounded  side,  wooing  you  to  another 
indentation,  brought  forcibly  to  my  mind  the  beautiful  saying 
of  WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR — that  the  best  results  of  human 
thought  spring  from  a  clear  head  meditating  over  a  burning 
heart,  just  as  the  richest  fruits  spring  out  of  the  sides  of  a  vol 
cano  over  its  hidden  fire  ! 

We  pass  through  a  continuous  succession  of  gardens,  stopping 
to  buy  from  the  peasants  some  fruit, — meeting  donkies  laden 
with  their  rich  burdens,  going  down  to  the  city  under  the  guid 
ance  of  boys,  and  women  with  baskets  upon  their  heads,  return 
ing  from  the  city,  their  fruit  all  sold.  As  we  ascend  higher  by 
the  good  road,  the  hard  iron  cinders  begin  their  domain  of  deso 
lation,  interspersing  their  barrenness  amidst  the  smiling  culti 
vation.  As  we  followed  the  zigzag  course,  every  now  and  then 
a  view  would  open,  disclosing,  on  either  side,  gorge  in  gorge, 
and  chasm  fearfully  hid  in  chasm  beneath.  Two  or  three  little 
houses  are  set  away  up,  some  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea, 
perfectly  unconscious  of  the  slumbering  Pandemonium  beneath. 
The  ';  Hermitage," — our  carriage  destination, — is  still  higher. 
It  marks  the  summit  of  vegetation.  Above  it,  there  grow  no 
more  of  the  ever-blooming  sweets  of  Nature.  Near  by,  is  a 
little  cottage,  prettily  ensconced  in  the  side-hill,  against  whose 
Gothic  front,  on  which  the  Madonna  is  painted,  the  evening  sun 
begins  to  pour  his  horizontal  beams.  Chestnuts  and  mulberries 
overhang  the  gorges  around.  We  strike  the  level,  and  are  in 
the  midst  of  the  guides  and  horses,  and  in  front  of  the  antique- 
looking  "  Hermitage."  An  awful  and  a  strange  scene  is  this, 
verily.  Such  a  devilish  crew — fit  ministers  unto  such  a  curi 
osity  as  this  of  Volcano-seeing !  The  mountain  is  half-way 
ascended,  yet  there  it  is  above  us.  apparently  just  as  high  as 
ever.  Its  laborious  ascent  is  not  yet  begun.  All  is  thus  far  a 
world  of  pleasure.  If  Dr.  CHEEVER  were  writing,  he  would 
moralize  this  upward  way  into  a  Bunyan  pilgrimage,  or  an 


166  NAPLES,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR. 

allegory  of  some  kind.  We  have  passed  through  a  region,  upon 
which  the  Hours  have  pressed  down  to  men  the  prodigality  of 
Heaven.  Wanton  Spring  and  fruitful  Autumn  lead  us  with 
soft  and  downy  steps  so  gradually  upward,  that  we  are  rather 
allured  than  led  by  the  "goodly  prospect."  The  "Hermitage" 
marks  the  point  where  Paradise  ends  and  fire  begins  to  show  its 
effects.  It  is  not  so  bad  a  place  either.  It  furnishes  us  a  lunch 
of  rare  deliciousness  and  ponies  of  sure  footing.  After  buying 
our  canes,  and  some  boxes  of  Vesuvian  relics,  we  mount — a 
gleeful  company.  We  ride  Indian  file,  over  and  amid  cragged, 
jagged,  and  ragged  rocks — the  result  of  more  recent  eruptions. 
Around  and  upward  we  wind — going  over  the  great  crater  (now 
fireless)  from  whose  heart  Pompeii  received  its  doom.  So  deep 
and  large  was  its  discharge,  that  it  divided  the  mountain,  so  as 
to  make  it  appear  like  two  peaks.  The  right  hand  peak,  which 
is  nearest  to  the  sea,  is  the  grand  one,  and  that  which  we  must 
climb.  A  calcined  world  of  desolation,  with  no  murmur  of 
cascades,  no  music  of  pine-trees,  awaits  our  step.  The  smoke 
winds  about  its  summit  almost  perpendicularly  above  us.  Is 
the  ascent  practicable  ?  Onward  !  The  guides  whip  the  ponies 
behind,  steering  them  by  their  tails,  and,  with  laugh  and  halloo 
we  find  ourselves  at  the  pedestrian  point.  There  are  three  ladies 
of  our  party,  and  they  must  mount  the  chairs.  By  the  way, 
now  that  the  ladies  are  out  shopping,  let  me  pilfer  from  the 
journal  of  one  of  them,  her  sensations  upon  the  extraordinary, 
perpendicular,  and  peculiar  romance  of  the  ride.  I  give  it  ver 
batim  :  "  Here,  at  the  point  of  steepest  ascent,  were  our  palan 
quins  in  waiting;  and  then  began  a  chattering  among  the  guides. 
Some  .one  said  that  they  were  quarrelling  and  scrambling  to  get 
the  smallest  lady.  [The  writer  seemed  to  be  a  peculiar  object  of 
care.)  Simultaneously  we  were  hoisted  on  the  backs  of  our 
bearers — four  poles  sustaining  the  chair  in  which  we  sat.  Swart- 
looking  fellows  they  were — one  at  each  pole.  L led  the 

way  in    our    horseback  cavalcade,  and  now  came  my  turn   to 
swing  the  veil  of  the  foremost,  when — short-lived  triumph ! — one 


NAPLES,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR.  167 

of  my  poor  fellows  gave  way,  and  I  was  obliged  to  see  all  the 
others  pass  by.  Still  amid  slipping  rocks  and  sliding  sand,  they 
tugged,  the  perspiration  rolling  off  in  big  beads.  It  was  labor 
to  us  also,  to  see  them,  from  our  rocking,  fearful,  tremulous, 
dancing  chair,  straining  and  puffing  with  our  weight.  It  was 
terrible  to  look  below.  The  men  seemed  like  little  creeping 
things  away  down  in  the  distance.  I  did  half  glance  at  the  sun 
Betting  in  the  sea,  and  the  far-off  city  and  country.  But  the 
point  of  vision  was  too  fearful  to  enjoy  the  spectacle.  By  dint 
of  occasional  resting  and  changing,  OUP  guides  brought  us  to 
the  top  ;  and  then  such  piteous  grimaces  and  chatterings  for 

money  and  drink ."     But  that  is  a  scene  to  be  enjoyed  by 

all.  The  men  all  walked.  I  seized  the  strap  over  the  shoulder 
of  my  guide,  who,  by  the  way,  carried  the  provender,  and  took 
the  lead.  Whether  it  was  my  light  foot,  or  the  persuasiveness 
of  the  basket,  I  obtained  the  first  sight  at  the  yellow,  sulphur 
ous,  smoking,  abysmal  pit ! 

Our  general  guide,  Antonia.  was  last  to  come  up.  Conse 
quently  we  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  other  guides — appropriate 
genii  of  the  spot.  Such  a  pack  of  imps  of  limbo  ought  only  to 
herd  about  the  infernal  hole.  My  man  began  whimpering  and 
hullabalooing  most  hideously,  as  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  off  his 
black  face.  They  were  paid  fully  by  Antonia,  and  thought  to 
make  a  speculation  out  of  our  gullability.  "  Je  suis%  fateege  /" 
"  Me-monie  !"  "  changez  pour  moi — beef  stek  and  maccaroni  !" 
"  Oh  !  donnez  me  sum,  Signer."  With  bad  French  and  worse 
English,  around  the  men  and  around  the  ladies,  with  twisted  faces 
and  devilish  horror  depicted  on  them,  they  danced,  gestured, 
chattered  and  swore,  until  Antonia  came  up,  who,  by  dint  of 
wilder^gestures  and  a  greater  noise,  stopped  them.  I  fixed  my 
man's  volubility  by  repeating  the  '  Declaration  of  Independence.' 
T  had  hardly  finished  one  of  the  '  grievances '  before  he  left  me 
"•ith  a  curse  deep  and  strong.  It  made  one  feel  queerly,  to  be  up 
out  of  the  worldj  after  sundown,  amidst  these  paths  of  fire  and 
smoke,  with  only  a  good-sized  cane,  and  with  such  a  company, 


168  NAPLES— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR. 

say  twenty  black-browed  scoundrels  to  lead  you  within  an  inch 
of  certain  death.  However,  it  was  a  part  of  the  play,  and  along 
we  trudged,  over  smoky  ground  and  ashes,  trembling  and  half 
suffocated  with  the  fumes  of  sulphur,  until  we  stood  upon  the 
brink  of  a  visible  hell.  I  hate  swearing,  but  that  is  the  only 
expressive  word.  With  handkerchiefs  to  the  noses,  and  eyes 
aghast,  we  looked  down  into  the  seething,  smoking,  blackened 
abyss  !  Here  was  the  fountain  itself  of  those  molten  streams 
of  fire  which  covered  the  face  of  earth  for  leagues,  and  buried 
great  cities  !  Our  guides  ventured  upon  the  sides  of  the  chasm, 
and  rolling  great  rocks  down,  bid  us  list !  Up,  up,  UP — comes 
the  cracking,  sepulchral  noise.  "  Sounding  on  its  dim  and 
perilous  way,"  it  still  rises  apparently  from  miles  below — and 
when  it  would  seem  that  even  sound,  were  it  ever  so  deep,  could 
no  longer  be  heard,  the  heart  would  burn  fearfully  to  hear  pro 
longed  the  noise — till  it  seemed  to  expire ; 

"  Yet  from  the  Abyss  is  caught  again, 
And  yet  again  recovered." 

If  one  were  not  so  horrified,  fancy  might  picture  the  Devil 
growling  below  in  his  deepest  pits,  as  blow  after  blow  of  the 
rock  cracked  upon  his  infidel  head.  As  we  looked  down  amidst 
the  curling  vapor,  and  heard  the  hollow  sound,  and  inhaled  the 
sulphurous  smoke,  and  looked  on  either  side  at  the  immense 
gorges  now  emptied  of  their  fires,  we  felt  that  for  the  first  time, 
we  were  amid  the  perfection  and  sublimity  of  horror  !  A  few 
steps  either  way,  and  it  is  certain  destruction.  The  ground  is 
hot.  You  may  turn  over  its  smoking  ashes  with  your  cane. 
The  guide  lit  a  torch  at  the  fire.  But  even  here,  can  we  not 
look  upward  into  the  deep,  calm  heaven,  with  its  high  and  vault 
ed  boss  of  stars,  interpenetrated  with  the  relict  lustre  of  the  de 
parted  day  ?  Cannot  we  sec  from  this  pinnacle  of  Dread,  the 
beauty  of  that  great  law  of  Being,  which  is  quaintly  described 
by  an  old  English  Bard,  as 


NAPLES,— ITS  LOVELINESS  AND  HORROR.  169 

A  great  gold  chain  ylinked  well, 

Whose  upper  end  to  highest  heaven  was  knitt, 

And  lower  part  did  reach  to  lowest  hell ! 

And  cannot  imagination  people  the  "  deep  amaze "  of  the 
starry  vault  with  its  creations  of  angelic  beauty,  winnowing  the 
air  around,  and  brooding  over  the  orange  groves  and  vineyards 
below  ;  as  well  as  the  horrid  mystery  of  Deepness  and  Death 
into  which  we  gaze,  with  those  ghastly  and  horrid  phantoms, 
described  by  the  Latin  poet,  whose  tomb  we  are  about  to  visit, 
and  whose  verse  we  have  prefixed  to  this  chapter  of  contrasts. 

With  torches  bright,  and  hearts  relieved,  we  took  giant 
strides  down  the  mountain  at  an  angle  of  fifty  degrees,  and 
from  a  height  4,000  feet  above  the  bay.  It  was  tall  walking — 
that  promenade.  The  space  which  absorbed  an  hour  of  ascent 
was  performed  downward  in  ten  minutes.  Again  with  horse 
and  carriage,  and  moonlight,  we  descended  into  the  city,  whose 
lights  in  crescent  beauty  twinkled  far,  far  below,  displaying  her 
as  the  bride  of  the  Mediterranean  recumbent  and  asleep, — her 
forehead  gleaming  with  a  coronet  of  gems.  Soon  we  find  as 
sweet  a  sleep  as  ever  laborer  felt.  One  of  the  biggest  pile- 
drivers  on  the  public  improvements  could  not.  have  wedged  a 
dream  into  that  solid  sleep.  I  was  sure  in  the  morning,  from 
my  eyelids,  that  Somnus  himself  had  been  sitting  on  them  all 
night.  I  would  not  perform  the  same  operation  for  the  reader ; 
so  I  close  for  another  theme. 


XII. 


, — 3t0  (0mjrttt  unit  Dilution. 


Andire  et  videor  pios 
Errare  per  lucos,  amaenae 
Quos  et  aquae  subeunt  et  aurae. 


HORACE. 


A  WEEK'S  stay  seems  but  a  slight  taste  of  this  Paradise. 
Nevertheless,  the  time  of  our  visit  has  proved  fortunate. — 
What  we  regretted  to  miss  at  Rome,  and  for  which  great  pre 
parations  were  making  when  we  left,  we  have  seen  here.  The 
festal  of  Corpus  Domini  is  always  a  great  gala  among  Italians. 
As  we  drove  to  Vesuvius  on  the  first  day  of  our  arrival,  our  eye 
was  attracted,  at  every  few  squares  of  this  illimitable  city,  by 
high  altars,  resembling  the  pagodas  we  saw  at  the  World's  Exhibi 
tion.  They  consist  of  rough  framework,  surrounded  by  cloth 
of  gold,  gems  and  spangles,  great  stars  and  red  tinselling.  They 
look  like  large  political  platforms,  done  up  in  gaudy  dress.  Pre 
parations  were  being  made  to  illuminate  the  city.  Lanterns  of 
divers  colors  hung  from  garlands  of  green  about  the  altars, 
across  streets  and  at  every  door.  Artificial  fountains  there 
were  too,  around  which  flowers  were  wreathed  and  paintings 
placed.  As  we  returned  from  Pompeii,  which  we  visited  day 
before  yesterday,  we  saw  the  illumination  and  the  people.  A 
gush  of  hilarity  seemed  to  run  all  through  Naples.  These 
children  of  the  sun, — how  they  do  revel  in  pleasure  upon  such 
days  as  this  !  They  save  throughout  the  year,  to  eat  their 
choicest  maccaroni  upon  Corpus  Domini.  Crowds  were  collected 
about  the  altars  listening  to  music.  Crowds  about  the  eating 
and  lemonade  stalls,  singing  and  hallooing.  Crowds  lined  the 
way,  laughing, — as  if  Herculaneum  were  not  beneath — a  corpse, 


NAPLES,— ITS  GAYET7  AND  DESOLATION.  Yl\ 

nor  Pompeii  laid  bare  in  desolation.  Ha  !  HA  !  Ho  !  in  genu 
ine  fun — a  language  which  needs  no  dragoman  to  interpret — 
roared  around,  as  lantern  flashed  against  jewelled  altar,  and  re 
flected  its  brightness  in  the  joyous  mass.  Curriculi  loaded  full 
of  picturesque  people,  drive  by — all  jovial.  Donkeys  are  piled 
from  head  to  tail  with  human  nature,  the  children  being  in 
baskets  upon  their  backs,  as  the  sketch  represents  them.  We 
descended  from  our  carriage  to  mingle  with  the  mass.  On  every 
side  is  carelessness  and  mirth,  and  that  without  drunkenness. 
Indeed,  I  have  seen  but  one  drunken  man,  and  he  was  a  sol 
dier,  since  I  left  England ;  and  that  although  wine  bleeds 
fresh  and  free  from  every  hill-side  and  mountain-top.  Yester 
day  the  procession  came  off.  Priests  by  the  hundreds  officiated. 
The  host  was  elevated.  The  people  were  blessed  from  the 
altars.  All  shops  were  closed.  Naples  was  high  in  her  festi 
vity.  The  meanest  lazzarone  that  ever  begged  or  stole,  joined 
in  the  general  joy,  and  forgot  his  condition  in  the  glee. 

In  one  of  the  churches,  nuns  were  seen  peeping  through  the 
bars,  and  solemn  priests  marched  around  and  amidst  the  crowd 
ed  aisle.  By  the  way,  let  me  tell  you  of  a  singular  vegetable 
phenomenon  which  our  party  saw  in  the  cloistered  court  of  the 
church  of  St.  Severino.  It  was  a  fig-tree  of  large  size  growing 
out  of  the  hollow  of  a  great  oak,  and  bearing  three  different 
kinds  of  figs.  Vegetable  wonders,  however,  are  as  common 
here  as  the  leaves  upon  the  sides  of  Vesuvius.  During  a  drive 
yesterday  to  the  tomb  of  Virgil,  we  had  a  fine  view  of  great 
fields  recovered  from  the  sea,  by  the  labor  of  peasants  and  the 
money  of  the  king,  and  which  are  covered  with  vineyards  as  far 
as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  interspersed  with  white  houses  of  rare 
beauty. 

Our  visit  to  Pompeii  will  never  be  forgotten.  Who  can  see 
and  forget  those  long  streets  deserted  and  dead  ;  those  temples 
broken  and  robbed  of  their  gods  ;  those  rooms  with  their  red 
and  yellow  paintings  ;  and  those  gardens  with  their  fountains 
and  statues,  their  .mosaics  and  pillars — all,  all  speaking  the 


172  NAPLES-ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION. 

great  tragedy  which  primevally  was  here  enacted.  The  forums 
are  standing  just  as  they  stood  when  the  lake  of  fire  was  poured 
upon  the  devoted  city.  The  temples  and  their  altars—strange 
illustrations  of  former  worship— stand  side  by  side  with  the 
baker  shops  and  taverns.  Barber  shops  and  theatres,  baths 
and  tombs,  are  here— an  unwritten  history,  a  book  of  marvels, 
which  the  fire  of  the  mountain  has  bound  with  its  clasps  of 
stone,  to  be  pondered  eighteen  hundred  years  after  by  a  wonder 
ing  world. 

The  ride  to  this  city  of  fire  lies  along  the  shore  of  the  bay. 
The  Apennines  bound  the  vision  upon  the  east ;  and  between 
them  and  Naples  lies  the  volcanic  fountain.  The  city  of 
Pompeii  is  upon  the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  occupying  a 
great  plain.  It  was  discovered  in  1750  by  peasants  working  in 
a  vineyard.  About  one-third  of  it  is  uncovered  ;  enough  to 
show  that  the  arts  of  painting,  sculpture  and  poetry  nourished 
greatly  in  the  midst  of  as  luxurious  and  wicked  a  people  as  ever 
were  permitted  to  fester  under  heaven.  What  I  saw  has  never 
been  written,  what  I  saw  is  evidence  more  than  enough,  even  t& 
a  sense  of  disgust,  of  the  deepest  stains  of  sin,  and  the  deepest 
depths  of  degeneracy.  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  were  no  doubt 
rank  with  iniquity.  Pompeii,  it  seems  to  me,  met  with  a  similar 
fate  for  similar  profligacy  and  corruption.  No  one  (unless  it  be 
ladies,  to  whom  such  sights  are  not  permitted)  can  go  through 
these  streets,  look  at  the  signs,  examine  the  paintings  and 
statues,  without  feeling  that  God  took  upon  himself  the  ofl&ce 
of  Avenger,  and  used  that  mountain  of  lava  as  the  instru 
ment. 

We  entered  upon  our  researches  just  outside  the  walls  ot 
Pompeii  near  some  stables  and  tombs.  The  inscriptions  tell,  in 
very  plain  Latin,  the  story  of  the  dead.  We  examined  wells, 
the  stones  of  which  are  worn  with  ropes,  as  if  just. used  yester 
day.  Similar  appearances  along  the  curbing  of  the  city,  in 
dicate  places  for  hitching  horses.  Ovens  like  our  own,  in  which 
bread  was  found  rather  well  done,  and  which  we  saw  to-day  at 


NAPLES,— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION.  173 

the  Museum — were  scattered  about.  The  stones  for  grinding 
and  working  the  dough  were  very  curious.  The  different  houses 
are  named  from  some  statue  or  bust  found  in  them,  as  the 
house  of  Cicero,  or  of  Sallust,  or  of  Castor  and  Pollux.  The 
dining  rooms,  as  well  as  all  the  other  rooms,  are  painted  in  yel 
low  and  red  ;  and  adorned  with  every  variety  of  figures,  mostly 
nude.  Birds,  fruits,  and  foliage  in  rare  perfection  ornament 
the  walls.  The  rooms  are  all  small,  and  lack  ventilation.  In 
nothing  is  our  comfort  so  superior  to  the  ancients  as  in  this 
essential  to  health.  The  houses  are  only  one  story,  except  that 
of  Diomede,  which  is  two  stories.  The  view  on  the  subsequent 
page  represents  one  of  the  villas  near  an  ancient  temple  whose 
pillars  yet  stand.  The  different  places  of  business  can  be  told 
by  some  object  found  in  them  ;  as  for  instance,  a  large  money 
chest  indicates  the  banking  house  ;  a  figure  in  the  wall  (Cupid 
mending  shoes),  a  shoer.aker;  the  chair,  a  barber  shop,  and  so 
on.  The  Pantheon  with  its  twelve  gods  was  found  in  fine 
order,  surrounded  by  its  forum ;  while  the  Temple  of  Isis,  with 
the  altar  for  the  sacrifice  and  even  the  hole  for  the  blood,  with 
its  Egyptian  symbols,  and  the  skeleton  of  the  priest,  stands  out 
prominent  in  the  midst  of  the  rums.  This  last  place  has  a  pecu 
liar  interest.  In  it  were  found  skeletons  of  priests,  who  had 
been  dining  when  overtaken  by  the  eruption.  Bones  of  fowls 
and  fish,  remains  of  eggs,  bread  and  wine,  and  a  garland  of 
flowers  were  found.  Another  skeleton  leaned  against  the  wall, 
with  the  axe  of  sacrifice  in  his  hands ;  and  still  another  had 
escaped,  carrying  360  coins  of  silver  in  a  cloth,  but  was  over 
whelmed  near  the  Tragic  theatre. 

We  lunched  in  a  fine  old  dining-room,  assisted  by  our  guides, 
who  liked  amazingly  to  drink  the  health  of  us  Americans  in  the 
Falernian.  A  jolly  old  soul  was  our  guide.  He  was  continually 
twitting  us  in  broken  French,  about  our  love  of  the  "  anteek." 
I  tried  to  carry  off  some  trophies,  but  his  vigilance  prevented 
me.  He  presented  me  with  a  big  bug.  and  tried  to  catch  a  liz 
ard  for  my  pocket,  remarking  that  they  were  "anteeks."  Every 


174  NAPLES,— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION. 

thing  was  exceedingly  antique  to  him.  The  very  flowers  and 
orange-peels  took  the  hue  of  antiquity.  He  introduced  me  to 
an  old  gray-haired,  one-eyed  soldier,  at  the  gate  of  the  theatre 
near  the  house  of  Diomede,  as  the  brother  of  Diomede — "  an 
anteek."  The  old  soldier  chuckled  most  funnily  at  the  old 
joke. 

We  visited  the  amphitheatre,  which  you  may  remember  was 
filled  at  the  time  of  the  great  eruption,  that  buried  the  city,  in 
August  A.  D.  79.  Few  skeletons  were  found  in  it.  It  is  supposed 
that  most  of  the  inhabitants,  including  those  in  the  theatres, 
escaped.  Twenty  thousand  could  find  egress  from  the  amphi 
theatre  in  two  minutes  and  a  half ;  and  no  wonder,  with  such  a 
number  of  corridors  and  doors.  There  are  97  places  of  inlet. 
It  seeems  to  me  that  the  amphitheatre,  of  all  other  places,  would 
receive  the  first  warning.  Open  at  the  top — the  fiery  glare  of 
the  visible  peak  of  Vesuvius  would  flash  in  upon  the  gladiatorial 
scene,  while  the  rumble  of  the  earth  beneath  would  drown  the 
loudest  roar  of  the  beasts  in  their  subterranean  dens,  and  star 
tle  the  people  from  their  spell  of  pleasure.  There  were  about 
300  skeletons  found  in  Pompeii.  Those  of  the  soldiers  in  the 
barracks,  and  of  seventeen  persons,  in  a  country-house  whither 
they  had  fled  for  refuge,  as  well  as  the  skeleton  of  the  mother 
with  her  child  in  arms,  are  preserved  in  the  studii  of  the  Muse 
um.  As  we  walked  upon  the  top  of  the  amphitheatre,  the  sun 
of  Italy  was  sinking  in  pink,  orange  and  purple.  That  most 
beautiful  of  all  skies  seemed  deep  and  full  of  the  mellow  lustre, 
weaving  its  witchery  over  ruin  and  mountain. 

We  visited  another  theatre.  It  was  the  favorite  of  the  poets. 
It  seemed  as  perfect  as  if  but  yesternight, 

"  The  cothurns  trod  majestic 

Down  the  deep  Iambic  lines, 
And  the  rolling  nnapestic 

Curled  like  vapor  over  shrines." 

Indeed  every  point  of  Pompeii  speaks  of  the  cultivation  of 
dramatic  poetry.  Paintings  of  masks  and  of  actors  are  abun- 


NAPLES,— ITS  G A  YET Y  AND  DESOLATION.  175 

dant.  But  had  Pompeii  one  poet,  whose  imagination — as  it 
revelled  in  the  paintings,  statues  and  groves,  the  theatres  and 
forums,  the  isles  of  the  beautiful  bay  and  the  rock-bound  villas 
of  the  Apennines — ever  dreamed  of  the  great  Drama,  whose 
2^erson(K  were  the  elements,  and  whose  unity  was  as  unbroken 
as  its  destiny  was  terrific  ?  Bulwer  has  lifted  the  curtain,  and 
displayed  the  scenes  of  that  drama.  Has  his  vivid  imagination 
even,  done  justice  to  the  awful  whelming  which  God  poured  upon 
this  seat  of  art  and  luxury  ? 

The  soft  twilight  breeze  creeps  gently  over  the  worn  and 
desolated  streets.  A  trembling  and  a  fear  rustles  past  on  its 
wing,  as  we  gaze  upward  to  the  dread  mount  whose  hidden  fires 
may  again  play  the  same  tragedy  upon  unconscious  Naples,  now 
decked  in  her  festal  robes  and  illuminated  with  golden  lights. 

While  endeavoring  to  make  out  an  inscription  before  the 
stage  of  the  theatre,  we  were  startled  at  a  wild  actor,  who  leaped 
from  behind  the  scenes,  and  held  us  in  comic  wonder  for  some 
ten  minutes,  by  some  fragments  of  a  comic  play.  His  contor 
tions  of  face,  and  his  gyrations  in  the  dance,  added  grotesqueness 
to  the  scene.  It  seems  that  our  guide  Antonia  had  slipped  him 
in  front  to  surprise  and  regale  us.  I  never  heard  such  a  fiddling 
twang  to  a  human  voice  before.  He  rung  its  changes  oddly 
enough — as  oddly  as  Punch  himself.  He  played  a  mimic  flute 
with  a  stick  ;  and  at  the  conclusion  jumped  into  the  chorus,  with 
as  much  gusto  as  ever  the  Grecian  chorus  did  under  the  spell  of 
"^schylus.  He  danced  it  daintily,  until  a  jerk  of  the  body  and 
a  doff  of  the  cap,  which  adroitly  caught  the  expected  coin — 
ended  this  specimen  of  the  "  antique." 

As  a  lawyer  I  visited  the  tribunal,  where  our  respectable 
fraternity — if  any  such  were  permitted  in  so  wicked  a  place — 
were  wont  to  congregate.  The  seat  of  the  judges  was  upon  a 
forum,  immediately  over  the  prison  cells,  from  whose  gloom  the 
prisoners  could  hear  their  own  doom.  An  arrangement  of  the 
kind  should  commend  itself  to  our  civilized  communities.  It 
would  save  our  courts  much  time  in  sending  for,  and  remanding 
prisoners. 


176  NAPLES-ITU  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION. 

As  we  wend  our  way  homeward,  a  heavy  cloud,  betokening 
rain,  enshrouds  the  apex  of  Vesuvius.  All  other  parts  of  the 
horizon  are  clear  and  starry.  A  silence  "  deep  as  that  between 
the  trumpet  summons  and  the  judgment"  sleeps  in  awe  above. 
The  very  obscurity  of  the  fount  of  fire,  deepens  the  gloom  and 
awe.  It  reminds  us  of  the  words  of  Festus  ;  Obscurity  hath 
many  a  sacred  use.  The  sacred  use  of  Vesuvius,  I  as  firmly 
believe,  as  I  believe  in  God's  retribution,  has  been  to  punish 
godless  profligacy.  Is  its  use.  wholly  set  aside?  Time  may 
tell. 

As  we  ride  along  under  the  illuminated  garlands  and  altars, 
we  perceive  little  shell  fountains  almost  invisible  in  the  foliage, 
out  of  which  water  is  spouted  of  a  sudden,  on  a  crowd  of  laugh 
ing,  mischievous  rogues,  assembled  around  the  railings.  Light- 
hearted  Naples — what  cares  she  for  yon  familiar  fountain  of 
fire? 

We  visited  yesterday  the  tomb  of  Virgil.  Driving  down 
the  shore  on  the  western  side  of  the  city,  we  see  the  tomb  above 
us  upon  the  solid  rock,  overlooking  the  bay.  To  reach  it  we 
must  take  a  longer  drive.  We  enter  a  tunnel,  some  half  a  mile 
long,  called  the  grotto  of  Posilipo, — said  to  have  been  made 
originally  by  the  devil.  It  bears  other  marks,  however,  those 
of  wheel-hubs,  all  along  the  sides ;  the  grotto  having  been  cut 
down  time  after  time  to  its  present  level.  It  is  lighted  finely. 
Two  carriages  can  drive  abreast  in  it,  and  its  height  is  at  least  100 
feet.  With  jolly  cracks  of  the  whip  we  dash  by  the  gala  people, 
returning  to  the  city.  The  grotto  rings  with  their  merriment. 
Soon  we  are  in  the  country,  having  passed  under  the  rocky  ridge 
which  divides  the  city  from  the  suburban  villas.  Altars  of  red 
and  gold  arch  the  streets.  Chestnut  venders  sing  their  nuts  ; 
soldiers  are  drinking  and  gaming;  dark-browed  citizens  are 
rolling  balls  on  the  paves ;  boys  are  driving  goats  into  the  city  • 
the  hemp  is  rotting  in  the  sun  by  the  road  side  after  the  Ken 
tucky  style  ;  all  these  objects  pass  rapidly  by, — to  be  absorbed 
in  the  fine  view  which  opens  upon  the  shore.  We  stand  near 


NAPLES,— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION.  177 

another  grotto  cut  by  Lucullus,  the  wealthy  Roman,  in  order  to 
get  to  Baise  with  more  facility — Baise,  that  ancient  city  dimly 
seen  down  the  bay  near  the  bridge  of  Caligula,  beyond  the 
volcanic  hills  of  Flageria.  The  isles  of  the  bay  float  in  the  dis 
tance,  miles  away ;  yet  apparently  very  near.  So  clear  is  the 
air  that  Caprse,  which  is  twenty-four  miles  from  the  mainland, 
seems  not  two  miles  from  our  point.  The  same  illusion  every 
where  deceives  the  vision. 

Can  it  be  true  that,  upon  those  islands,  which  seem  picked 
out  for  ensamples  of  the  beautiful,  the  harshest  rigors  of  ty 
ranny  are  exacted  ?  Can  it  be,  that  under  this  cloudless  heaven, 
and  surrounded  by  this  delightful  bay,  there  is  at  this  moment, 
carried  on  the  blackest  system  of  political  persecution  and  cruelty 
ever  practised  by  despotic  arrogance  ?  It  is  lamentably  true,  as 
Mr.  Gladstone,  in  his  able  pamphlet  to  Lord  Aberdeen,  re 
vealed,  that  at  least  26,000  political  prisoners,  suspected  or  con 
victed  of  liberal  views,  or  of  favoring  the  revolution  of  1848.  are 
chained  with  felons,  and  drudge  day  after  day  upon  those  isles,  and 
in  the  surrounding  prisons,  without  the  hope  of  a  hearing,  or  a 
chance  of  mitigation. 

This  is  not  mere  conjecture,  nor  rumor  started  by  uneasy 
Republicans.  The  police  registers  themselves,  show  the  number 
of  political  prisoners  from  May,  1848,  to  September,  1851.  We 
append  a  table,  which  cannot  record,  however,  the  tortures  and 
cruelties  incident  to  their  imprisonment.  It  speaks  with  no 
common  voice,  of  the  system  of  political  persecution  of  the  King 
of  Naples. 

These  are  the  round  numbers  (under  the  actual  figure),  be 
cause  an  exact  quotation  might  subject  many  Government  officials 
to  serious  annoyance. 

NUMBER  OF  NEAPOLITAN  POLITICAL  PRISONERS,  FROM  MAY,  1848,  TO 
SEPTEMBER,  1851. 

Condemned  to  the  Ergastola,  .....  36 

Condemned  in  irons  to  the  Bagni,  ....         1,000 

Condemned  in  irons  to  the  Bagni,  but  not  yet  removed  from  prison,         300 


178  NAPLES,— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION. 

Banished  to  the  islands  after  trial,  .  :  -1  7  .  -^  800 

Banished  to  the  islands  without  trial,  including  the  soldiers  sent  by 

royal  authority  to  the  camp  of  Charles  Albert,  .  .  ..,  ..,„  6,000 
Accused,  who  have  been,  or  still  are,  in  prison,  from  May,  1848,  to 

September,  1851,  not  included  in  the  above,        .  •  A      15,000 

Total,  .  -.  .  .  .       23,136 

Supposed  number  of  exiles,  ....       3,000 

Hiding  from  the  police,         .  .  .  ...  .          150 

Exiled  from  their  native  towns,  but  still  in  the  kingdom,  350 

3,500 


Total  number  of  victims  of  the  Neapolitan  Constitution,  26,636 

And  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that  this  list  does  not  include 
any,  from  that  wretched  class  called  lazzaroni,  but  mostly  the 
respectable  and  moneyed  class,  who  have  intelligence  to  know, 
and  the  will  to  endeavor  to  obtain  freedom.  The  lazzaroni  were 
the  hired  instruments  of  the  Bourbon,  who  instigated  them  to  acts 
of  pillage,  murder,  rape  and  arson,  against  those,  and  the  families 
of  those,  who  favored  Constitutional  Reform.  Even  yet  these 
fiends  are  the  chief  support  of  the  throne.  The  quarter  where 
they  live  is  cabled  the  King's  quarter.  Well,  like  master,  like 
man.  We  hope  for  a  reckoning  with  both. 

The  best,  the  noblest,  the  brightest  spirits  of  southern  Italy, 
are  included  in  the  above  statistics,  and  thus  expiate  what  in 
the  eye  of  Ferdinand  II.  is  a  horrid  crime,  viz.,  their  belief  in 
popular  sovereignty.  The  wretched  King  can  promise  solemnly 
a  Constitution  to  his  people,  and  can  deliberately  perjure  him 
self;  and  conservatives  are  ever  ready  to  laud  his  love  of  order, 
and  his  legitimate  right.  But  a  citizen  dare  not  whisper  to  his 
own  wife  hardly  his  hope  of  a  better  day,  without  being  loaded 
with  irons,  chained  to  thieves,  and  sent  off  to  one  of  these  island 
prisons.  The  governments  of  the  civilized  world  should,  in  the 
name  of  our  common  GOD  and  Humanity,  protest  with  a  vigor 
far  different  from  mere  diplomatic  correspondence,  against  this 
wholesale  abuse  of  power.  Perhaps  it  would  not  be  entirely 
according  to  international  law.  But  is  not  that  law  progressive  ? 


NAPLES,— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION.  179 

Does  it  not  spring  from  the  universal  reason  of  men,  as  well  as 
from  universal  custom  ?  and  where  is  the  reason  why  enlightened 
nations  should  not  demand  the  observance  of  humane  codes  ?  It 
is  even  alleged  that  the  tortures  ^of  the  rack  are  resorted  to  by 
the  government  of  Naples,  to  discover  the  liberalists,  and  their 
designs.  It  makes  the  flesh  creep  to  think  what  infamous  per 
fidy  and  cruelty  are  known  to  have  been  here  committed  by  the 
myrmidons  of  Power.  Well;  let  the  first  overt  act  be  done 
toward  an  Englishman  or  an  American — that  is  all !  People  will 
then  know  how  deep  that  moat  is  around  the  palace,  and  how 
fraternal  that  dear  cousin  of  Austria  is  toward  his  ally  of 
Naples. 

Does  it  not  seem  as  if  Providence  had  ordained  the  inhu 
manity  of  man  to  be  an  offset  against  the  charms  of  nature  in 
this  clime  ?  But  let  not  these  things  deter  us  from  our  search 
after  the  tomb  of  Virgil. 

Driving  around  the  bay  to  complete  our  circuit,  we  pass  by 
the  sweetest  little  nooks,  hid  in  the  coverts  and  inlets  of  the 
bay,  the  little  terraces,  gardens  and  fine  houses  of  which  are 
concealed,  almost,  amid  rocks.  Above  and  below,  for  hundreds 
of  feet,  is  the  leafy  and  stony  architecture,  natural  and  artificial. 
Luxury  still  is  seated  upon  this  lovely  shore.  Boats  are  plying, 
crowded  with  men  and  women,  from  the  city  to  the  booths  and 
cafes,  which  line  its  marge.  A  long  winding  walk,  up — up. 
amidst  groves  of  nectarine  and  figs,  brings  us  to  the  tomb  of 
Virgil.  On  the  right  is  the  promontory  of  Misenum,  near  which 
Palinurus  fell  into  the  sea.  Farther  to  the  right  is  the  ever 
beauteous  Ischia  and  Procida.  The  ancient  seats  of  Lucullus, 
Hortensius  and  Marius.  are  not  far  off.  In  this  classic  vicinage 
lies  the  prince  of  Latin  poets.  The  inscription  found  here  indi 
cates,  without  doubt,  the  sacred  spot.  "  Mantua  me  gcniut, 
Calabra  rapuere,  tenet  nunc  Parthenope,  cecina  jmscua,  ritra 
duces."  This  inscription  we  copied  from  the  stone  within  the 
tomb,  which  bends  over  the  dust  of  the  poet.  Flowers  bloom 
prodigally  around.  The  unceasing  echo  of  the  vehicles  through 


180  NAPLES— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION. 

the  grotto  disturbs  the  stillness,  not  the  beauty  of  the  spot. 
Fancy,  ranging  wide  for  similes,  likened  the  murmuring  echo  to 
the  solemn  sounding  of  the  great  epic  of  the  bard  down  the  long 
corridors  of  Time.  The  voiceful  sea  celebrates,  in  music  more 
harmonious  than  his  own  hexameters,  the  undying  fame  of  the 
Mantuan  poet.  How  strange  for  us,  from  the  farthest  Occident, 
to  come  hither  looking  for  the  mere  monument  of  genius  !  Is  it 
not  true,  that 

"Pilgrims  come  from  climes  where  they  have  known 

The  name  of  him — who  now  is  but  a  name ; 
And  wasting  homage  o'er  a  sullen  stone, 

Spread  his — by  him  unheard,  unheeded — -fame" 

God  has  written  all  over  our  hearts  this  love  of  the  resting- 
places  of  the  great  and  gifted,  who  have  inspired  us  by  their 
heroic  lives,  or  charmed  us  by  their  "  tongue  of  subtle  flame." 
An  old  writer  has  transmitted  to  us  the  same  sentiment  of  vene 
ration,  for  which  we  in  turn  revere  him — "Movcmur  enim  nescio 
quo  pacto,  tocis  ipsis  in  quibus  eorum,  quos  diligemus,  aut 
admiramur  adsunt  vestigia.'''1  Nothing  makes  an  American 
feel  how  much  his  country  must  achieve,  as  to  tread  in  these 
footsteps  of  Antiquity,  and  ponder  the  inscriptions  over  the 
tombs  of  genius  and  heroism.  Nothing  makes  him  feel  how 
much  his  country  has  achieved,  as  to  see  the  operations  of  this 
present  government,  where  every  principle  of  civil  right  and 
common  decency  are  sunk  in  the  intoxication  of  irresponsible 
power. 

A  visit  to  the  Museum  here  is  a  part  of  the  performance  in 
travel.  We  found  it  full  of  the  relics  of  the  buried  cities,  con 
sisting  of  every  variety  of  personal  ornament,  cooking  utensils, 
pictures,  statues,  and  architecture.  The  famous  Farnese  Bull, 
and  the  surrounding  group  in  marble,  are  here.  Next  to  the 
Laocoon,  it  is  the  most  complex  achievement  of  the  chisel.  Of 
the  paintings,  churches,  promenades  ;  of  our  visit  to  the  opera 
at  San  Carlos,  the  largest  theatre  in  Europe ;  of  the  drive  we 


NAPLES,— ITS  GATETT  AND  DESOLATION.  181 

had  down  the  Riviera  di  Chiaja,  amidst  the  beauty  and  fashion 
of  Naples,. more  splendid  than  Regent-street  or  the  Boulevards  ; 
of  our  visit  to  the  cemetery,  whose  beautiful  buildings  and 
grounds  are  the  admiration  of  all  visitors ;  of  the  drive  to  the 
very  home  of  the  old  Siren  upon  the  banks  of  the  Bay,  fit 
allegory  of  the  paradisiacal  beauty  and  infernal  horror  which 
dwell  about  us ;  of  all  these  and  more,  are  they  not  written 
upon  the  fleshly  tablet,  to  be  perused  more  at  leisure  ? 

This  afternoon  of  Sabbath,  the  festival  of  St.  Louis  of  France 
was  celebrated  in  great  parade  and  pomp.  Long  processions 
of  priests,  in  white  robes  and  with  wax  tapers,  were  flanked 
by  long  lines  of  soldiers,  in  which  marched  singing  boys  and 
girls  bearing  flower  wreaths  much  larger  than  themselves.  Some 
were  dressed  up  as  knights  of  the  chivalric  times  ;  some  in  glit 
tering  costumes  of  other  eras.  Carriages,  too,  in  long  procession, 
in  which  were  the  tlite  of  the  city,  brought  up  the  line.  As 
they  marched  down  into  the  promenade,  although  it  was  the 
Sabbath,  at  least  five  hundred  guns  were  fired.  The  promenade 
was  crowded  with  the  gay  Neapolitans,  all  eager  to  see  and  hear. 
As  the  host  moved  by,  under  its  golden  canopy,  attended  by 
priests,  or  as  the  image  of  St.  Louis  moved  along,  borne  aloft 
by  priests,  every  hat  was  off  and  obeisance  was  made  with  hum 
ble  reverence.  This  struck  us  queerly  5  but  we  are  prepared  for 
any  thing.  The  perfect  uniformity  in  the  Catholic  Church  here 
is  wonderful.  Every  one  is  a  member,  and  pays,  at  least,  out 
ward  respect  to  its  ordinances. 

The  promenade  displayed  a  more  tastefully  dressed  people 
than  London  or  Paris  can  show.  The  gentlemen  here  dress  per 
fectly.  Naples  can  show  both  extremes,  the  best-looking  and  the 
worst-looking  people  in  the  world.  Our  first  impression  was  cast 
from  the  features  of  the  lazzaroni,  whose  indescribable  appear 
ance  is  as  world-wide  in  its  notoriety  as  the  crater  of  Vesuvius. 

We  have  met  many  Americans  at  every  point  of  our  journey. 
They  are  more  numerous  abroad  this  year,  than  the  travellers  of 
all  other  nations  put  together.  I  was  told  by  a  reverend  gentle- 


182  NAPLES— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION. 

man  who  had  been  to  Palestine,  that  the  Arabs  were  a  little 
jealous  of  the  Yankees.  They  feared  the  Yankees  were  going 
to  "  annex"  the  Holy  Land.  And  certainly  the  reasons  they 
give  for  it  are  ostensible,  if  not  solid.  They  say  that  America 
has  been  sending  a  national  expedition  (Lieut.  Lynch's)  to 
survey  the  Dead  Sea — that  we  follow  up  our  government 
project,  with  droves  of  our  countrymen,  each  one  of  which  is  as 
curious  and  inquiring  after  every  thing,  as  if  it  were  already  his 
own.  Well ;  who  knows  what  our  destiny  may  be?  Palestine 
may  in  the  course  of  time  have  its  representative  in  the  Con 
gress  of  the  United  States  of  America  and  Asia  ;  for 

"  Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way." 

And  if  that  star  will  not  set,  but  keep  moving,  I  do  not  see  that 
we  can  help  taking  China,  and  so  on. 

Oh  !  for  a  month's  annexation  of  Naples  to  our  Union,  that 
we  might  strike  off  the  fetters  from  the  thousands  of  Republican 
prisoners,  who  are  enslaved  in  sight  of  their  beautiful  city,  and 
that  we  might  purge  this  Paradise  of  its  serpents  in  human  form, 
which  have  preyed  long  enough  upon  the  anguish  of  the  noble 
and  patriotic. 

As  I  write,  the  sound  of  military  music  mingles  with  the 
soft  rolling  of  the  waters  ;  while  every  now  and  then  a  discharge 
of  musketry  announces  that  some  procession  and  celebration  is 
going  on.  We  observe  upon  the  piazza,  and  now  entering  the 
promenade,  a  long  congregation  of  white  priests,  carrying  some 
thing  aloft,  the  host  perhaps,  while  the  people  are  kneeling 
around.  What  strange  devotion  we  meet  with  here.  We  were 
shown  in  the  Cathedral,  forty  silver  images  of  the  saints,  large 
as  life,  to  say  nothing  of  mines  of  silver  in  shrines,  flowers  and 
sacred  instruments.  The  churches  do  not  equal  those  of  Genoa, 
much  less  those  of  Rome.  There  is  not  the  same  Art  displayed. 

A  week  has  flown  here,  in  this  other  Eden,  upon  golden 
wing.  It  seems  but  a  day  or  so,  since  we  landed  upon  this 
shore  of  love  and  beauty.  Within  that  time  how  many  images 


NAPLES— ITS  GAYETY  AND  DESOLATION.  183 

of  rare  and  exquisite  form, — aye,  and  of  rare  and  exquisite 
horror,  have  been  painted  on  the  memory  !  Some  of  these  have 
been  transcribed.  Yet  the  prospect  still  enchants,  and  here  I 
would  fain  linger  and  write  about  each  novel  phase  of  beauty, 
which  is  revealed  under  this  kindlier  sky  and  around  this  bay 
of  loveliness.  Here  is  the  perfection  of  external  Nature,  where 
the  sun, — which  is  the  glorious  source  of  all  our  joys, — warms 
the  soil  into  the  most  fragrant  and  richly-colored  flowers  and 
delicious  fruits,  and  developes  a  landscape  that  is  only  equalled 
by  the  water  scene  which  goldenly  glows  under  the  "  blazing 
Deity."  The  very  silence  is  enamored  of  the  soft  plash  upon 
the  shore,  as  it  now  invades  so  sweetly  the  ear,  and  locks  in  her 
cell,  her  own  "  spirit  ditties  of  no-tone."  The  isles  of  the  bay 
loom  up  amidst  the  sea,  like  isles  of  the  blest.  Every  thing 
seems  to  exist,  to  ornament  a  temple  of  Love  and  Purity. 
Surely  we  can  exclaim  with  the  simple-hearted  Miranda  in  the 
Tempest. 

"  There's  nothing  ill  can  dwell  in  such  a  temple. 

If  the  ill  spirit  have  so  fair  an  house, 

Good  things  will  strive  to  dwell  in  it." 

But  look  at  the  dwellers  here — the  miserable,  swart,  ragged, 
haggard  lazzaroni ;  look  at  the  spectacle  of  soldiers  all  about ; 
see  that  great  fort  surrounded  by  a  deep  moat  in  the  midst  of 
the  city,  for  the  sovereign  to  protect  himself  from  his  own  peo 
ple  ;  and  above  all,  look,  as  I  have,  deep  down  in  the  great  abyss 
of  Vesuvius,  walk  over  its  smoking  ashes  and  burning  marl, 
inhale  its  sulphur  breath,  and  tremble  amid  its  horror  ;  and 
you  will  find  that  Providence  has  "  mingled  the  cup."  The  gold 
is  not  without  alloy,  the  sun  has  its  spots,  the  luscious  fruitage 
hath  a  canker  at  the  heart ; — in  fine,  Naples,  the  home  of  the 
Homerian  Siren,  the  seat  of  ancient  Roman  luxury,  the  resort 
of  the  gay  and  pleasure-loving  from  every  clime,  the  spot  chosen 
by  Virgil  for  his  repose  ;  the  land  favored  by  the  presence  and 
described  by  the  pen  of  Lamartine, — Naples — has  its  Vesuvius, 
its  Herculaneum  buried  beneath  the  indurated  lava,  and  its 


184  NAPLES,-ITS  QAYETT  AND  DESOLATION 

desolated  Pompeii  under  volcanic  ashes,  partly  laid  bare  in  its 
garments  of  woe  ! 

All  these  spots  we  have  visited,  alternating  from  para 
disiacal  beauty  to  unutterable  terror.  We  have  seen  the  ex 
humed  relics  of  these  cities  in  the  great  Museum,  studied  their 
domestic  history  in  the  familiar  household  utensils  and  personal 
ornaments,  their  pictures  and  statues.  And,  as  if  in  mockery 
of  these  warnings,  we  have  listened  to  the  sweet  voices  of  the 
"  children  of  this  azure  sheen  "  swelling  in  mellow  music  and 
falling  in  tremulous  cadence,  in  the  opera ;  have  seen  them 
decked  for  the  gala  day,  with  their  altars  and  fountains  decorat 
ed  as  none  but  the  Neapolitans  can  ornament  them,  and  min 
gled  with  them  in  their  joy  under  the  very  shadow  of  that 
fearful  mountain,  and  over  the  very  lava,  under  which  lies  stiff, 
and  rock-bound,  the  city  of  Herculaneum. 

Of  all  the  places  I  have  yet  seen,  upon  which  Nature  has' 
been  lavish  to  prodigality,  Naples  seems  the  primal  one.  The 
sense  aches  with  the  continual  beauty  of  all  around.  ""  In 
sweet  madness  "  the  mind  is  robbed  of  itself,  and  in  still  ecstasy 
it  delights  in  the  ineffable  grace,  music  and  loveliness  which 
curls,  sings  and  moves  in  the  water,  and  is  reflected  in  the  bend 
ing  blue  above  and  the  leafy  landscape  around. 


XIII. 

Hrih  unit  Jfinlta. 


"  He  pushed  his  quarrels  to  the  death,  yet  prayed 
The  saints  as  fervently  on  bended  knees 
As  ever  shaven  cenobite." 

Bryant. 

FROM  the  sunny  land  of  the  military  priesthood  of  St.  John 
my  present  greeting  hails.     Its  unique  and  peculiar  history 
lends  a  charm  which  would  not  otherwise  belong  to  these  dazzling 
streets  and  motley  palaces. 

We  left  Naples  on  Monday,  the  23d  of  June,  and  were  a 
long  time  in  losing  sight  of  the  bay  of  Beauty.  All  that  is 
magical  in  the  combination  of  light  and  shade  has  been  daguer- 
reotyped  by  the  mild  sunshine  upon  our  memory  —  fadelessly 
there  pictured.  We  took  our  passage  upon  a  French  man-of-war. 
All  went  below  to  sleep  ;  I  alone  remained  above  to  obtain  a 
nearer  view  of  the  Isle  of  Caprae,  which,  from  Naples  had  slept 
so  tremulously  lovely  amid  her  sheen  of  cerulean  setting.  We 
passed  between  the  isle  and  Point  Campanelli,  leaving  Sorrenta 
and  Castel  a  Mare  behind.  The  top  of  Vesuvius,  with  her  flag 
of  smoke,  darted  behind  the  point.  The  farewell  view  of  evanish 
ing  Naples,  becomes  more  and  more  enchanting  by  distance, 
which  robes  its  sky  and  water  in  azure  hue.  Caprae  looked 
bleak  and  rocky.  On  the  seaward  side,  I  saw  an  arch  formed 
by  rocks  in  the  sea,  under  which  undulations  of  light  and  water 
flashed  in  rivalry  of  beauty.  The  Apennines  range  closely  to 
the  shore  —  indeed,  their  rocky  barriers  here  shut  in  the  sea. 
Huge  palisades  rising  3000  feet  or  more,  broken  into  promontory, 
gorge,  bay  and  inlet,  guard  the  coast.  The  rocks  were-  mantled 


185  SICILY  AND  MALTA. 

with  a  sort  of  yellow  lichen.  Here  and  there  smiled  spots  of 
cultivation.  We  gradually  diverged  from  these  shores,  leaving 
the  Gulf  of  Salerno  behind  us,  until  we  passed  Point  Palinurus, 
whereabouts  we  watched  a  round  and  golden  sun  roll  down  his 
disk  into  the  waves.  The  waves  were  lit  into  blazing  splendor 
by  his  fire.  A  long  line  of  dazzling,  flashing  radiance,  swam 
upon  the  horizon,  under  a  canopy  of  cloud  impurpled  and  red, 
with  long  illumined  cords  and  tassels  dripping  with  sunlight 
down  to  the  water's  edge.  The  spray  made  by  the  steamer  was 
as  royally  purple  as  the  stole  of  the  imperial  Caesar.  Soon  the 
last  tint  of  gold  was  softened  into  a  rich  mellow  lustre  of  orange. 
Evening  sobered  down  gradually  into  night.  The  flickering 
shadows  of  the  air  played  between  the  eye  and  the  distant  hori 
zon.  A  sunset  upon  the  Mediterranean — is  it  not  an  object  to  be 
seen  with  rapture  ?  What  pen  can  distil  its  beauty  into  expres 
sion,  or  enthrall,  by  words,  the  tranquil  spirit  of  the  scene  ? 

Yesterday  morn  I  hurried  on  deck  to  see  Stromboli  with  his 
column  of  fire,  and  ^Etna  with  his  pillar  of  smoke  and  his  top  of 
snow.  The  last  was  just  observable  above  the  highlands  of  the 
northeast  part  of  Sicily.  We  had  passed  the  gulfs  which  form 
the  instep  of  the  boot  of  Italy,  in  the  night,  and  were  now  in  the 
gulf  of  Grioja,  approaching  the  veritable  Scylla  and  the  undoubted 
Charybdis  !  The  land  and  water,  too,  of  classic  memories,  begin 
to  appear  as  we  draw  near  to  Hellas  and  her  Ionian  isles.  Scylla 
is  a  high  rock,  twelve  miles  from  Massena.  Here  the  dogs  of 
Homer  and  Virgil  barked  in  the  caverns  where  the  waves  rolled 
around  the  fabulous  monster.  We  did  not,  owing  to  the  state 
of  the  tide,  see  any  peculiar  commotion,  nor  hear  any  peculiar 
sounds.  The  waves  glistened  blue  and  bright  as  ever  they  did 
to  the  eye  of  .ZEneas.  The  sailors  had  just  washed  the  decks, 
and  were  busy  burnishing  the  metallic  portions.  The  whistle 
of  the  boatswain  and  the  bustle  of  the  sailors,  the  cries  of  the 
officers  to  the  pilots,  and  the  additional  man  at  the  wheel,  be 
tokened  that  more  than  ordinary  precaution  is  still  necessary, 
even  with  steam,  to  pass  this  point  of  classic  terror.  Our  boat 


SICILY  AND  MALTA.  187 

moves  on ;  but  no  opening  appears.  All  is  rock-bound,  save  a 
sand  bank,  near  a  fort.  This  soon  opens  and  displays  the  channel 
of  Massena,  which  divides  the  toe  of  Italy's  boot  from  the  north 
east  of  Sicily.  It  seems  as  if  some  convulsion  of  nature  had 
torn  this  channel  from  the  rocky  range  of  the  Apennines,  leaving 
the  twin  of  horrors  on  either  side  to  guard  the  shores.  Massena 
is  in  sight,  and  Charybdis  with  her  slight  whirl  of  waters,  some 
600  feet  from  Massena,  on  the  Sicilian  side,  attracts  the  eye. 
It  is  not  a  very  great  thing,  although  it  plays  such  a  "  bloody 
bones"  part  in  the  hexameter.  Hell-gate,  at  Long  Island,  is 
altogether  more  horrific.  Indeed,  since  the  Genoese  sailor  struck 
out  into  the  vexed  Atlantic,  putting  to  shame  the  Argonautic 
and  the  Ulyssean  expeditions,  these  old  haunts  of  monsters  look 
like  foolishness,  especially  from  a  steam  boat. 

The  head  point  of  Sicily  is  a  sandy  beach,  upon  which  are 
windowless  houses,  in  a  deserted  fishing  town.  Massena  is  quite 
a  pretty  place,  half  hid  under  the  shade  of  the  rough,  uneven 
mountains,  orange-covered,  yet  bleak-looking,  overtopping  and 
surrounding  the  city. 

We  pass  under  the  guns  of  the  fort,  and  are  surrounded  with 
a  motley  crew  in  boats.  Degenerate  Sicilians !  Ye  who  were 
once  giants,  and  with  your  tread  shook  this  volcanic  (?)  isle ;  ye 
who  were  once  Cyclops,  and  with  single  eye  glared,  and  with 
heavy  arm  forged  Jove's  thunderbolts  in  the  depths  of  the  fires 
of  jEtna,  Oh  !  how  have  your  glories  been  dimmed,  since  they 
shone  in  the  imagination  of  the  bard  of  Scio  ! 

At  breakfast  we  were  desserted  with  green  almonds,  yellow 
apricots,  cherries,  ripe  pears  and  fresh  figs.  The  latter  had  a 
mawkish  sweet  taste,  a  little  like  our  paw-paws,  which  they  re 
semble  in  form  and  color.  We  begin  to  feel  in  the  South.  In 
deed,  we  are  in  Homer's  "  isle  of  the  sun." 

What  vicissitudes,  physical  and  historical,  has  not  Sicily  un 
derwent  !  Her  first  inhabitants  were  from  Spain.  She  was  sub 
sequently  held  by  Saracens,  Turks,  Spaniards.  Austrians  and 
French.  The  Bourbon  house  was  replaced  upon  the  throne  in 


188  SICILY  AND  MALTA. 

1820.  The  Revolution  of  1848  extended  here.  The  marks  of 
it,  in  the  ruined  forts,  are  still  visible.  Successful  for  some 
months,  and  separated  from  Naples,  she  was  again,  however,  re 
duced  to  the  vassalage  of  Ferdinand  II.,  the  prince  who  now 
adorns  the  throne  of  Naples. 

After  breakfast,  we  went  on  deck,  when,  looking  astern,  I 
observed  our  steamer  on  fire!  The  sails  were  ablaze  !  I  hardly 
knew,  in  my  excitement,  what  to  halloo,  so  I  told  an  English 
friend  near,  whose  ready  French  proved  very  serviceable.  The 
sailors  soon  leaped  amidst  the  rigging,  tore  the  sails,  and  with 
water  quenched  the  fire.  This  little  incident  leads  me  to  re 
mark  upon  the  extraordinary  safety  of  the  boats  here,  compared 
with  those  at  home.  Human  life  is  valued  here  much  more  than 
human  liberty.  Why  cannot  America  at  least  learn  a  lesson  in 
this  regard  from  Europe  ? 

In  some  respects  we  could  well  interchange  some  of  our  own 
manners  and  institutions  for  such  knowledge.  Let  me  exem 
plify.  Our  bankers  at  Naples,  correspondents  of  Barings,  over 
paid  us  $160  in  gold,  while  paying  £125  !  Such  a  mistake  at 
home  would  soon  dismiss  the  officer.  But  the  truth  is,  the  Ital 
ians  are  utterly  unfit  for  business  Two  hours  will  hardly  an 
swer  for  them  to  do  what  our  brokers  would  do  in  ten  minutes. 
Their  bank  at  Naples  was  away  up  in  the  steeple  of  a  church, 
not  so  high,  quite,  as  Vesuvius.  It  was  a  trial  to  wait  upon 
such  business  men.  They  are  so  absorbed  by  pleasure  in  the 
luxurious  noiv:  that  providence  seems  wholly  severed  from  their 
habits.  Irresponsible,  and  careless  even  of  their  souls'  salvation, 
they  yield  themselves  to  the  gayety  of  the  day,  and  commit 
their  future,  here  and  hereafter,  into  the  hands  of  chance,  or 
what  is  worse,  of  the  priests,  whose  ready  absolution  is  a  perfect 
salve  for  every  wound.  The  genius  of  the  West,  and  of  the  rug 
ged  North,  seems  to  them  a  wild  Quixotic  adventure,  to  end  in 
pain  and  trouble.  "  Heart  within,"  they  have  not,  only  as  it 
vibrates  to  the  music  of  the  festival,  and  the  garlanding  of  flow 
ers.  "  God  o'er  head,"  what  or  where  is  He,  save  that  He  is 


SICILY  AND  MALTA.  189 

enshrined  in  the  visible  images  which  are  borne  in  the  joyous 
procession  ?  He  breathes  not  in  the  beauteous  landscape,  nor 
liquid  depths,  for  them.  His  name,  is  but  a  name — to  be  re 
peated  in  the  prayer,  and  to  be  pulselessly  dead  at  the  heart. 

Before  we  leave  Italy,  let  me  generalize  yet  further.  How 
apparent  to  a  student  of  the  elder  civilization  does  it  differ 
from  our  own  civilization  !  The  old  wholly  absorbed  the  indi 
vidual  in  the  State.  The  new  releases  the  individual  from  the 
State,  in  every  country,  except  Italy,  where  the  State  is  so  inti 
mately  inwoven  with  religion.  There,  religion  enmeshes  the 
individual,  and  binds  his  energies.  It  absorbs  the  most  sturdy 
and  active  in  its  priesthood,  and  hands  them  over  to  the  State 
as  curious  specimens  of  free  agents,  to  be  again  restricted  and 
bound.  The  old  civilization  withdrew  men  from  the  home-in 
fluence  to  the  temple,  the  forum,  and  the  camp.  The  very  con 
struction  of  the  domestic  residences  in  Pompeii  demonstrates 
how  weak  was  the  domestic  tie.  No  such  words  as  comfort  or 
home  are  known  in  the  Grecian  or  Roman  Lexicon.  The  oppo 
site  is  the  case  with  most  countries  at  the  present  day.  The 
domestic  influence  in  Germany,  England  and  America,  has  in 
formed  the  soul  of  the  State.  But  in  Italy  the  same  out-door 
tendency  pours  its  feeble  rays  of  happiness,  and  sheds  its  glitter 
of  gala  pleasure.  The  priest  stands  between  husband  and  wife, 
parent  and  child ;  the  little  orifice  of  the  confessional  becomes 
the  medium  of  confidence  ;  and  even  that  confidence  hangs  by  as 
brittle  a  thread  as  did  the  sword  of  Damocles.  The  State,  as 
sisted  by  the  Church,  yet  binds  down  the  energies  of  the  mass 
of  Italy.  The  artists  of  Naples  are  honored  by  the  King,  for 
representing  by  the  pencil  and  chisel,  Religion  shielding  and 
supporting  Ferdinand,  while  Justice  smiles  serenely  upon  the 
royal  miscreant,  who  is  represented  as  triumphantly  trampling 
Constitutionalism  under  his  feet.  May  we  not  hope  that  the 
people  will  yet  burst  irrepressibly  their  iron  encasement,  and 
stand  forth  throbbing  in  the  liberty  of  individual  independence  ! 

Naples  is  yet  hopelessly  bound.     The  King  has  his  moat- 


190  SICILY  AND  MALTA. 

surrounded  forts,  his  trained  bands,  and  his  kind  Austrian 
friends.  These  seem  to  be  invincible  ;  but  another  Massaniella 
may  arise  even  from  the  humble  fishermen  who  drag  the  beauti 
ful  bay,  and  with  a  surer  stroke  decapitate  the  head  of  kingcraft 
in  Naples.  The  government  encourages  pleasure  and  priestly 
rule ;  and  thus  renders  the  popular  mind  oblivious  of  all  inhe 
rent  dignity  and  right. 

We  passed  to-day  some  spots  sacred  to  the  memory  of  the 
early  Christians.  "Paul  after  having  been  shipwrecked"  in  the 
ship  from  Alexandria  (see  Acts,  chapter  28),  upon  the  shore  of 
Miletus,  the  present  Malta,  landed  at  Syracuse,  and  "  tarried 
there  three  days,"  and  from  thence  "  he  fetched  a  compass,  and 
came  to  Rhegium,"  which  place  we  passed  to-day.  It  was  along 
these  blue  waves,  and  under  the  same  warm  sunlight,  that  the 
great  Apostle  followed  his  noble  appeal  unto  Caesar,  even  to  the 
eternal  city  itself !  But  more  thrilling  still,  I  now  write  to  you 
from  the  very  isle  of  his  shipwreck,  and  the  very  place  where  his 
eloquent  tongue  bade  the  inhuman  sailors  stay  their  hands : 
"  Except  these  men  abide  in  the  ship,  ye  cannot  be  saved  !"  and 
he  thus  protected  the  four  prisoners  from  death  at  the  hands  of 
their  custodians ;  the  very  spot  where  the  viper  fell  innocuous 
into  the  fire,  and  where  the  simple  barbariaus  proclaimed  him 
in  very  deed  a  Deity  ! 

Some  doubts  have  arisen  as  to  the  identity  of  Malta  with 
the  Miletus  of  the  Acts ;  but  the  place  where  "  the  two  seas 
come  together,"  can  be  no  other.  Controversy  has  settled  upon 
Malta. 

Before  we  left  Sicily,  the  sun  went  down  over  distant  ^Etna. 
Cape  Mirro  de  Porci  was  left  behind  in  a  haze  of  splendor. 
Shakspeare  has  given  to  Syracuse,  which  floats  in  yonder  dim 
light,  a  local  habitation  for  his  muse,  and  mathematicians  hail 
it  as  the  home  of  Archimedes. 

This  morning  we  woke  up  in  the  rock-ribbed,  trebly  fortified 
harbor  of  Malta.  The  English  flag — a  relief  to  one's  eyes — 
floated  above  us.  The  land  of  the  Hospitaller  and  the  Grand 


SICIL Y  AND  HAL TA.  191 

Master  was  around  us.  This  island  was  given  to  the  Knights  by 
Charles  V.  after  they  had  been  driven  out  of  Palestine.  From 
the  fifteenth  century  to  the  time  of  Napoleon,  the  Grand  Masters 
ruled  here,  midway  between  the  Christian  and  Moslem  world. 
"We  have  spent  the  day  partly  in  looking  at  the  strange  tombs 
of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  and  the  Cathedral  of  that  name. 
Yesterday  was  his  festal  day.  The  Cathedral  was  carpeted  over 
with  the  orange  leaves  which  hid  the  rich  Mosaics.  The  great 
tapestries  in  which  shines  the  life  of  the  Saint,  hung  splendidly 
from  the  frescoed  arches.  We  passed  into  the  Armory,  all 
around  which  the  old  knights,  devoid  of  their  bodies,  stiff  in 
their  armor,  seem  to  keep  guard.  Curious  relics  were  there — 
flags  and  trophies  won  from  Saracen  by  Knight,  and  ordnance 
of  antique  mould.  The  keys  of  Jerusalem  hung  rusty  by  the 
side  of  those  of  Acre  and  Rhodes. 

This  city  was  taken  by  Napoleon  on  his  route  to  Egypt, 
and  the  reign  of  the  Grand  Masters  ceased.  By  voluntary 
annexation  (a  precedent  for  Texas)  the  isle  was  placed  under 
British  sway.  But  the  quaint  influence  of  the  priestly  soldier 
yet  clings  to  each  palace  and  church,  giving  strange  and 
attractive  features  to  each  object  around  us.  The  order  of  the 
Knights  was  composed  of  persons  from  different  European  na 
tions,  distributed  according  to  language.  Their  portraits  in 
the  Armory  denote  decision  and  devotion ;  and  their  arms  and 
armor  bespeak,  by  dents  and  weight,  a  stalwart  and  doughty 
Knighthood.  Here  the  last  rays  of  the  orb  of  chivalry  lingered 
about  the  gown  of  the  churchman,  long  after  that  orb  had  dis 
appeared  from  the  horizon.  Here  the  hardest  siege  of  modern 
history  was  sustained  by  the  French,  who  in  1799,  after  two 
years'  resistance,  capitulated  to  Lord  Nelson. 

The  isle  is  barren  and  dry,  occasionally  siroccoed  by  south 
west  winds.  Every  class  and  every  nation  is  here  to  be  found  ; 
a  varied  assemblage ; 

"  Long-haired  Sclavonian  skipper  with  the  red 
And  scanty  cap  which  ill  protects  his  head; 


192  SICILY  AND  MALTA. 

White-kilted  Suliot,  gay  and  gilded  Greek, 

Grave,  turbancd  Turk,  and  Moor  of  swarthy  cheek. 

We  cannot  throw  off  the  influence  of  Malta  so  readily.  We 
saw  so  much  at  the  famous  refuge  of  the  Knights,  so  much 
illustrative  of  the  early  struggles  of  the  Crusaders  to  regain 
and  to  keep  Palestine,  so  much  illustrative  of  the  exterminating 
wars  between  the  Knights  of  St.  John  and  the  Templars,  as 
well  as  between  Christian  and  Turk,  that  it  would  take  a  long 
scroll  to  write  it. 

This  isle  of  Malta  seems  to  be  well  governed  by  the  British, 
but  it  is  a  nest  of  beggary.  Such  a  group  of  beggars  never  be 
set  poor  humanity,  as  clung  to  us  when  we  emerged  from  our 
hotel.  I  had  to  beat  them  off  with  my  Vesuvius  club,  so  impu 
dently  daring  were  they  to  our  ladies  as  well  as  to  ourselves. 
Before  we  left  Malta  harbor,  a  band  of  four  fiddlers,  smoking 
cigars,  twanged  all  around  our  boat  for  coppers.  Although  the 
mate  gave  them  a  few  splashes  with  the  wheel  occasionally  to 
keep  them  off,  and  although  his  "  Sacr-r-r-es  "  rolled  deep  and 
long,  still  they  rowed  and  fiddled,  and  fiddled  and  rowed,  until 
our  noble  steamer  drowned  their  harmony  in  its  noise,  as  it 
moved  out  amid  the  eight  forts  of  this  invincible  harbor.  The 
involutions  of  these  stony  fabrics  are  wondrous.  They  were 
framed  by  the  Grand  Masters,  one  after  the  other,  each  trying 
to  excel  his  predecessor,  in  giving  strength  to  this  last  resort 
of  chivalry  against  the  Moslem  foe.  The  open  sea  is  angry  and 
rough.  Ten  ships  float  in  the  offing,  looking  spectral  and 
shadowy  against  the  evening  sky.  They  form  the  English  fleet, 
which  is  hourly  expected  at  Malta. 

The  pitching  of  the  vessel  admonishes  me  to  cease  record 
ing,  and  to  retire — below. 

Farewell  to  Malta  !  Athens — ATHENS — the  home  of  the 
spiritually  Beautiful  is  our  promise,  and  thitherward  we  shall 
be  wending,  even  though  unconscious,  in  sleep. 


XIV. 

" "  tip  (gp  nf  torn," 


.  " TRUTHS  serene 

Made  visible  in  Beauty,  that  shall  glow 
In  everlasting  freshness ;  unapproached 
By  mortal  passion  ;  pure  amidst  the  blood 
And  dust  of  Conquest ;  never  waxing  old, 
But  on  the  stream  of  time,  from  age  to  age 
Casting  bright  images  of  heavenly  youth, 
To  make  the  world  less  mournful." 

Talfourd'1*  Athenian  Captive. 

THE  heart  throbbed  wildly  as  the  vessel  approached  the  shores 
of  Attica.  Far  different  is  its  throbbing  from  that  caused 
by  the  distant  view  of  Rome.  One  was  the  citadel  of  power, 
physical  and  temporal,  even  in  its  grandest  exhibition.  The 
other  is  the  citadel  of  power,  intellectual  and  immortal.  The 
shores  of  Greece  as  they  frown  upon  the  sea,  are  instinct  with 
a  genius  which  men  will  ever  venerate.  The  general  aspect  of 
the  shores  of  Attica  is  that  of  extreme  barrenness  and  asperity, 
unrelieved  by  a  single  tree,  and  rarely  by  a  shrub.  There  are 
no  level  lawns  or  beautiful  groves,  with  which  poetry  would  in 
vest  the  land  of  Homer  and  Plato.  Cicero  said  truly  of  yon 
island  far  to  our  northward,  and  of  its  ruler  Ulysses,  that  he 
loved  Ithaca  " non  quia  larga^  sed  quia  sua"  He  might  have 
extended  the  generalization  so  as  to  have  included  every  Gre 
cian  ;  and  have  added,  "  they  loved  not  their  country  because  it 
had  any  attractive  scenery,  but  simply  because  it  was  Greece." 
What  Homer  in  his  Odyssey  says  of  Ithaca,  may  be  truly  said 
of  all  the  Grecian  coast.  It  is  horrid  with  cliffs,  with  little  or 
no  herbage,  allowing  scarcely  a  mouthful  to  the  mountain  goat 
9 


194  A  'MIENS,— "  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

Greece  is  almost  sea-surrounded.  A  small  isthmus  attaches 
Morea  to  the  main  land.  How  could  such  a  barren  soil  become 
so  great  ?  Why  do  we  gaze  with  such  earnestness  upon  yon  lit 
tle  neck  of  rocky  earth  between  Mount  Cithaeron  and  Cape  Su- 
nium  1  Why  do  we  wander  with  rapture  under  the  plane-trees, 
where  Plato  taught,  or  lean  entranced  against  the  Pentelic  pil 
lars  of  the  Parthenon  ?  Why  do  we  listen  to  the  subtleties  of 
Zeno  from  the  portico  ?  What  surrounds  each  statue  with  an 
auriole  of  light ;  what  covers  each  mountain  with  a  glory  like  a 
God  ?  Why  do  nations  meet  here  to  mourn  over  ruins,  and  grow 
eloquent  over  dust  ?  Why  are  millions  spent  here  in  excavating 
the  works  of  the  dead  past  ?  Why  has  an  archaeological  soci 
ety  exhumed  the  fragmentary  pillars  of  the  temples  of  old? 
Greece  was  the  thinking  head  and  beating  heart  of  the  world ; 
the  first  and  brightest  link  in  the  genealogy  of  genius.  The 
human  mind  here  received  its  first  great  impulse,  and  it  has  ever 
since  measured  its  advancement  by  the  influence  of  literary  men 
deeply  read  in  the  lore  of  Greece.  The  influence  of  letters  over 
every  other  influence,  is  attested  by  every  page  of  the  world's 
annals ;  but  the  annals  of  Greece  are  a  complete  unity  of  evi 
dence,  every  line  of  which  is  instinct  with  a  salutary  influence. 

Can  we  help  wondering  that  such  a  barren  soil  should  have 
been  so  productive  of  great  thoughts  ?  Let  it  be  remembered 
that  the  very  difficulty  to  be  contended  with,  "  like  a  skilful 
wrestler,  strengthened  the  nerves,"  and  made  the  Spartans  and 
Athenians,  what  they  will  ever  remain,  the  soul  of  Antiquity. 

We  passed,  at  evening,  the  famous  island  of  Cytheria,  now 
called  Cerigo.  Dark  clouds,  with  long  fringes,  floated  grace 
fully  over  Sparta.  The  hills  arc  dark,  and  not  ungracefully 
pencilled  against  the  western  sky.  which  glows  in  gold,  here  and 
there  dimmed  by  wavy  cloudlets.  The  purple  light  plays  upon 
the  foam  of  our  gallant  ship  How  does  the  spirit  recur  to  the 
past,  and  with  that  active  race  who  lived  upon  yon  shore,  people 
the  sky  and  earth  and  sea,  with  shapes  of  dreamlike  beauty  and 
austere  dignity  !  Even  there  upon  that  bleak  island,  which  is 


ATHENS,—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE."  195 

now  used  as  the  Botany  Bay  of  Ionia,  it  is  fabled  that  the  beau 
tiful  goddess  of  love  had  her  favorite  resort.  There  where 
Helen,  the  "  source  of  all  the  woe  of  Troy,"  was  born,  the  ge 
nius  of  Greece  imagined  it  saw  the  winged  messengers  of  the 
goddess  float  in  the  purple  light  of  love  ;  and  here,  amidst  this 
cerulean  sea,  it  saw  the  goddess  herself  arise — the  conqueror  of 
conquerors — the  charm  of  Mars  and  the  companion  of  Jove  ! 

As  night  closes  over  the  land  of  Lycurgus,  it  seems  to  lie 
solemn  and  severe  in  thoughtfulness.  No  gayety  or  delight, 
such  as  hovered  around  Naples,  is  present  to  break  the  spell. 
With  what  longing  does  the  mind  once  accustomed  to  ponder 
the  thoughts  that  breathed  and  burned  in  the  classic  pages  of 
j^Eschylus  and  Thucydides — linger  about  those  silent  hills — the 
home  of  song  and  philosophy. 

Saturday  morning  found  us  at  the  Pireus.  Its  houses  looked 
low  and  quite  oriental.  The  stone  as  well  as  the  sandy  soil, 
was  white  and  dazzling — the  roofs  are  red.  The  most  pic 
turesque  part  of  the  view  is  the  people  in  their  peculiar  cos 
tume.  We  had  a  fine  chance  to  study  them.  They  thronged 
about  our  boat,  before  it  had  fairly  stopped,  in  their  little  boats, 
eager  for  the  drachmas.  Dressed  in  their  long  red  caps,  with 
long  purple  tassels  ;  a  finely -wrought  waistcoat,  of  red  or  blue, 
very  dark,  over  a  white  boddice  ;  and  a  flowing  skirt  around  the 
body,  snow-white  and  sashed ;  together  with  elegant,  tasselled 
leggings  ;  they  formed  a  sculpturesque  and  picturesque  group  ! 
Some  of  the  meaner  kind  were  dressed  in  big  baggy  pants, 
which  draggled  in  the  dirt,  and  looked  any  thing  but  classical. 

A  great  contest  was  approaching,  or  was  going  on,  as  to  who 
should  be  No.  1,  in  the  forthcoming  spoil  of  passengers.  All 
were  huddled  around  our  gangway,  when  splash !  went  the 
wheel  of  the  steamboat ;  and  away  went  wet  trowsers,  and  at 
high  tide,  darted  all  the  boats  into  the  bay.  Then  came  the 
tug  of  Greek  with  Greek,  to  get  to  the  place  of  fortune  again. 
A  second  splash !  At  last,  an  old  Frenchman,  with  Madame  and 
child,  descend  for  a  boat.  A  rush  of  boats  takes  place,  and 


196  ATHENS,— "  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

there  follows  a  scene  so  novel  in  boating,  to  an  American,  that 
we  transcribe  it  as  a  specimen  of  the  manners  of  the  descend 
ants  of  Epaminondas  and  Pericles.  Boat  No.  1  catches  Ma 
dame  as  she  descends, — the  picture  of  the  "  unprotected  female" 
in  Punch.  While  politely  seating  her,  No.  2  seizes  the  old 
man,  and  drags  him  into  his  boat — he  just  escaping  a  cold  bath. 
No.  1  runs  up  for  the  baggage,  which  Nos.  3,  4,  5,  6  and  7  have 
seized,  amidst  terrific  jabberings  ;  and  which  they  seem  deter 
mined  to  divide  piecemeal.  Madame  discovers  her  isolated 
state,  and  reaching  out  her  arms  frantically,  screams,  "  Papa !" 
"  Papa  !"  as  no  one  but  a  Frenchwoman  can.  The  young  scion 
adds  his  treble.  The  guns  from  the  Greek  man-of-war  thunder 
ing  a  reception  to  the  French  admiral,  who  had  just  left  the 
other  side  of  our  boat  for  his  ship,  join  the  chorus.  Amid  this 
noise  and  the  smoke,  the  din  of  Grecian  conflict  continues.  No. 
2  quickly  joins  his  boat,  and  Madame  and  child  tumble  over 
into  it.  No.  1  returns  to  find  his  prey  minus,  discovers  the  tri 
umph  of  No.  2,  and  makes  a  lurch  at  him  for  the  robbery. 
They  clinch,  and  over  they  roll,  perfectly  unconscious  of  the 
fickle  elements  below  ;  still,  they  somehow  manage  to  keep  in 
the  boats.  No.  3  rushes  to  the  rescue  ;  knocks  off  Madame's 
hat ;  while  the  disapproving  scion  pummels  him  with  his  little 
fists.  Madame  screams.  Nos.  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8,  &c.,  rush  to  the 
melee,  with  oars,  boat-hooks,  and  boots  in  air.  The  Laocoon 
was  never  so  involuted  as  the  twisting  folds  of  these  lithe  Gre 
cians.  All  is  confusion.  We  stand  above,  laughing  at  the  sin 
gular  scene,  while  its  objects,  the  passengers,  crawl  off  into  boat 
No.  9,  and  escape  to  the  shore.  Our  officers  are  kicking  at  the 
heads  of  the  Grecians  as  they  approach  within  range.  At 
last,  our  mate  suggests  the  old  expedient,  and  buckets  of  cold 
water  are  plenteously  rained  in  upon  the  fighting  mass.  The 
Greek  man-of-war  sends  a  boat  of  sailors  to  aid  the  hydropathic 
expedient ;  and  in  peace  we  are  permitted  to  land  upon  the 
shores  of  Greece. 

These  Greeks  bear  the  reputation  of  lying,  cheating  rascals. 


. 


ATHENS,—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE."  197 

At  every  chance  they  take  advantage  of  each  other,  as  well  as 
of  strangers.  They  have  a  good  share  of  enterprise.  Those 
who  come  from  the  islands  are  especially  sharp  and  active.  But 
moral  sensibility  seems  utterly  imbruted  among  them.  The 
same  race  who  introduced  by  fraud  the  horse  into  Troy, — the 
same  who  pretended  to  leave  Troy,  and  hid  in  that  little  isle  of 
Tenedos,  which  we  are  approaching, — the  same  nation  whose 
faith  was  a-proverb  for  inconstancy,  still  people  Attica.  There 
is  little  to  attract  in  the  first  glance  at  Greece.  Every  thing 
looks  arid  and  dry.  Ham  they  have  not  had  for  the  three  sum 
mer  months.  The  olives  are  the  only  trees,  and  they  look  dusty 
and  parched.  •  Some  few  years  ago  the  snow  laid  nearly  a  whole 
day  upon  the  ground  about  Athens,  and  killed  the  oranges  and 
vines,  while  it  withered  the  olive  considerably. 

We  learned  at  the  Pireus  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  go 
to  Joppa  before  the  middle  or  last  of  July,  as  the  Austrian 
steamer  does  not  leave  till  then.  Consequently  we  shall  have 
to  omit  our  Jerusalem  trip,  and  be  satisfied  with  a  visit  to  the 
Capital  of  the  Ottoman. 

The  kind  and  urbane  missionary  at  the  Pireus,  Mr.  Buel 
of  the  Baptist  denomination,  received  us  most  cordially.  We 
had  a  letter  to  him  from  our  Consul  at  Malta.  Mr.  Buel  offered 
to  guide  us  among  the  ruins  of  Athens,  which  offer  was  readily 
accepted.  A  better  guide  never  traveller  rejoiced  in.  He  is 
indeed  a  scholar  and  a  Christian  gentleman,  and  his  life  abroad 
is  not  without  incident,  which  marks  him  as  a  man  of  earnest 
will  and  heroic  devotion  in  the  cause  of  liberty  and  gospel 
truth. 

Our  country  has  reason  to  be  proud  of  its  missionaries  here. 
Dr.  King  and  Mr.  Hill  are  the  missionaries  at  Athens;  the 
former  is  of  the  American  Board,  and  the  latter,  I  believe,  is  an 
Episcopalian.  Dr.  King,  as  well  as  Mr.  Buel,  has  been  sub 
jected  to  litigation  and  trouble,  on  account  of  the  jealousy  and 
intolerance  of  the  Greek  monks.  These  missionaries  are  the 
representatives  of  free  discussion,  guarantied  by  the  Greek  Con- 


198  ATHENS,—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

stitution,  but  little  known  in  its  practical  significance.*  When 
pressed  too  hard  by  those  in  power,  they  have  one  argument 
which  never  fails  them.  It  is  an  appeal  to  the  "stripes  and 
stars."  The  other  Sunday,  some  of  the  monks  of  the  Greek 
Church,  wishing  to  embroil  Dr.  King  in  a  difficulty,  repaired  to 
his  church,  in  company  with  a  mob  of  students  from  the  Univer 
sity,  apparently  for  the  purpose  of  discussion.  The  Doctor  had 
a  full  house.  After  proceeding  in  his  sermon,  he  was -interrupted 
by  a  monk,  who  wished  to  propound  certain  queries,  the  object 
of  which  was  to  draw  out  from  Dr.  King  some  expressions  invid 
ious  to  the  Greek  Church.  The  Doctor  told  him,  that  if  he 
would  come  the  next  day  he  would  answer  him,  as  he  did  not 
desire  a  discussion  at  that  time.  But  they  would  not  be  put  off. 
Fierce  gestures  and  threatenings  followed,  and  they  began  to 
advance  upon  the  Doctor.  A  few  days  before,  a  tin  box  with  a 
flag  containing  quite  a  number  of  stripes,  and  more  stars,  had 
arrived  at  Athens  for  our  Consul,  and  in  his  absence  it  was  left 
with  Dr.  King,  Consul  ad  interim.  The  Doctor's  servant  qui 
etly  slipped  up  stairs  in  the  midst  of  the  row,  and  while  the 
students  were  advancing  on  the  Doctor,  returned  with  the  flag, 
and  spread  it  out  from  the  pulpit !  Hurrah !  but  you  should 
have  seen  those  scions  of  the  heroes  and  demi-gods  slink,  like 
whipped  sheep-dogs,  out  of  the  house.  Not  a  word  more,  not  a 
gesture,  but  a  quiet  sneak  away  from  the  republican  flag,  told 

*  Since  my  return  to  America,  I  have  seen  it  stated  that  Dr.  King  had 
been  arrested  for  an  alleged  reviling  of  the  Greek  religion ;  that  the  Court 
below  had  found  him  guilty,  but  that  the  case  had  been  removed  to  a  higher 
tribunal.  The  final  hearing  was  had  on  the  18th  of  December,  1851,  when 
Mr.  Pilikas,  one  of  Dr.  King's  lawyers,  and  prytannis,  or  president  of  the 
University,  maintained,  in  an  able  speech,  that  controversy  was  not  reviling 
the  Greek  religion;  and  when  he  took  occasion  to  pay  several  handsome 
compliments  to  America,  as  the  home  of  free  thought  and  free  speech.  If 
Dr.  King  should  succeed,  of  which  there  is  small  hope,  owing  to  the  corrup 
tion  of  the  Court  and  the  influence  of  the  Government,  it  will  be  a  triumph 
of  civil  and  religious  liberty  worthy  of  that  city  where  Socrates  taught  and 
Plato  reasoned, 


ATHENS^-"  TliE  EYE  OF  UllEECE."  199 

more  of  the  influence  of  true  liberty  than  Greece  has  felt  for 
many  a  long  year.  The  ancient  Greeks  used  to  imagine  a  Hes 
perian  clime,  beyond  the  pillars  of  Hercules,  near  the  setting 
sun;  and  Plato  organized  an  imaginary  commonwealth,  where 
human  passion  played  harmoniously  and  subordinately  for  the 
public  weal,  without  jar  or  rupture.  Out  of  such  a  clime,  and 
from  such  a  republic,  an  influence  emanated  as  ideal  as  it  was 
potent  upon  the  soul  of  the  plastic  Grecian.  May  we  not  hope 
that  an  analagous  influence,  as  real  as  it  is  potent,  shall  emanate 
from  our  own  Hesperus,  to  mould  anew  the  dynasties  of  corrupt 
power  in  this  eastern  world  ? 

When  I  left  home  I  did  not  dream  of  going  farther  east 
than  Rome.  To  be  permitted  to  see  the  source  of  all  that  is 
beautiful  in  Art,  glorious  in  Poetry,  profound  in  Philosophy, 
and  powerful  in  Eloquence,  was  a  joy  too  great  for  my  limited 
hope.  But — I  have  stood  upon  the  Acropolis  !  Although  I 
had  been  utterly  oblivious  of  all  my  voyaging  hither,  yet  I 
could  have  told  immediately,  that  Attic  elegance,  even  in  its 
ruins,  environed  me,  and  that  this  was  indeed  the  marvel  of 
Taste,  the  adornment  of  Pericles,  and  the  eye  of  Greece. 

Five  miles  through  the  plain,  once  covered  with  the  homes 
of  Athenians,  now  denuded  of  all  save  a  few  olive  orchards  and 
vineyards,  bring  us  to  the  city  from  the  Pireus.  Formerly,  the 
Pireus  formed  a  part  of  Athens.  A  walled  street  connected 
them.  A  chariot  course  was  upon  these  walls.  You  may  re 
member  that  Socrates  used  to  go  down  to  the  Pireus,  to  talk 
with  the  unsophisticated  whom  he  met  there,  and  from  whom 
he  learned  many  of  those  familiar  figures  of  speech  which  con 
vey  so  aptly  great  truths.  Few  ruins  line  the  way.  The  Par 
thenon  upon  the  Acropolis  first  catches  the  eye,  and  detains  it 
to  the  last.  Mr.  Buel  informed  me  that  from  his  house  in  the 
Pireus,  he  could  count  its  pillars,  so  clear  is  the  glisten  of  the 
Pentelic  marble  in  this  transparent  air.  Far  above  the  city 
looms  up  the  Acropolis.  From  it,  as  from  the  elevated  centre 
of  a  charmed  circle,  the  eye  may  sweep  the  most  soul-stirring 


200  ATHENS,—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

scenery  of  the  world,  unless  we  except  the  yiew  from  the  Mount 
of  Olives. 

I  had  been  led,  by  hearing  an  Englishman  expressing  his 
disgust  of  Athens  and  its  relics,  to  expect  but  a  meagre  view  of 
these  hallowed  scenes.  Perhaps  I  owe  the  intense  interest  I 
took  in  these  associations  and  localities,  to  the  intelligent  and 
communicative  missionary  who  accompanied  us. 

In  ascending  the  Acropolis,  we  first  stop  at  the  temple  of 
Theseus.  It  was  built  465  B.  c.  Its  parts  are  perfect  still. 
The  roof  is  modern.  An  earthquake  has  shaken  it,  doubtless, 
for  the  different  portions  of  the  pillars  have  been  disturbed  from 
their  original  base.  Thirty-four  beautiful  Doric  columns  attest 
the  grace  and  elegance  of  this  style  of  architecture.  On  the 
eastern  facade  all  the  ten  metopes  are  occupied  with  bass-reliefs, 
representing  the  labors  of  Herculesf  whose  friendship  for  Theseus 
is  thus  shown.  The  relics  of  the  demi-god,  Theseus,  were  brought 
here  from  the  isle  of  Skyros,  and  interred. 

The  Theseum  is  but  a  stepping-stone,  by  which  to  ascend  to 
greater  beauties  and  more  hallowed  localities.  What  means 
this  large  area,  braced  around  by  immense  hewn  stones,  so  im 
mense  that  it  seems  impossible  that  human  might  could  have 
brought  them  here  ?  Sixteen  by  ten  feet  in  size,  these  stones 
range  around  the  Pynx,  so  called  from  their  pressing  the  earth 
upward.  Above,  as  it  were  in  the  most  commanding  point  of 
the  vicinity,  is  a  solid,  flinty  rock,  carved  into  a  platform,  with 
seats  for  different  officers  and  the  orators.  We  can  hear  from 
?the  farthest  point  of  the  Bema  the  ordinary  conversation 
K)f  our  French  friends,  who  have  anticipated  our  ascent  to 
•this  massive  throne  of  the  Grecian  demus — the  throne  of  Oratory 
and  Statesmanship.  The  Bema  is  turned  from  the  sea  to  the 
inland.  Formerly  it  was  upon  the  summit  of  the  hill,  but  so 
potent  and  thrilling  were  the  allusions  of  the  orators,  as  well  as 
their  gestures  as  they  pointed  out  the  naval  scenes  of  triumph, 
that  the  thirty  tyrants  removed  it  further  down.  But  it  still 
Commands  a  view  of  the  Acropolis  ;  and  that  view  furnished 


ATHENS— "THE  EYE  OF  GREECE."  201 

Demostenes  with  one  of  his  finest  allusions  to  the  gods,  who 
were  ranged  in  statues  above  him  upon  the  right,  in  his  famous 
oration  upon  the  crown. 

We  stand  upon  the  solid  platform,  where  Demosthenes,  JRs- 
chines,  and  their  compatriots,  harangued  the  people.  An  area 
of  12,000  yards  is  about  us.  There  is  no  doubt  of  the  identity 
of  this  place,  however  problematical  other  places  may  be.  There 
are  two  spots  renowned,  the  one  in  sacred,  and  the  other  in  pro 
fane  history,  as  to  the  particular  identity  of  which,  there  cannot 
linger  a  possible  shade  of  doubt.  One  is  Jacob's  well — the 
scene  of  the  memorable  conference  between  our  Saviour  and  the 
Samaritan  woman.  It  is  dug  in  the  solid  rock.  You  may  be 
sure  when  you  stand  over  Jacob's  well,  that  you  are  at  least 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  spot  where  Jesus  stood.  The  place  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre,  of  the  crucifixion,  of  the  ascension,  and  of 
the  transfiguration,  are  all  in  darkness  or  doubt.  About  Jacob's 
well,  Mahomedan,  Jew.  Christian,  and  Infidel,  all  agree.  Not 
less  certain  is  the  spot  marked  as  the  Grecian  Bema.  When 
you  stand  there,  you  may  be  certain  that  you  stand  just  where 
Demosthenes  stood,  when  he  hurled  his  torrent  of  indignation 
upon  his  opponents,  and  shook,  by  his  words  of  thunder,  Artax- 
erxes'  throne.  From  no  spot  in  the  world  has  emanated  such 
winged  words,  freighted  with  so  warm  an  enthusiasm,  and  so 
cogent  a  logic.  It  stirred  the  soul,  to  stand  on  this  throne  of 
oratory — to  image  forth  the  scene  of  that  memorable  day  when 
j^Eschines — the  polished  actor  of  the  theatre  and  the  glosing 
courtier  of  the  people,  met  the  Prince  of  Orators  in  the  question 
about  the  crown,  and  was  forever  whelmed  in  the  popular  cle 
ment  over  which  he  had  so  often  skimmed,  volubly  and  grace 
fully.  From  that  fountain  sprung  the  mighty  flood  of  speech, 
which  through  ages  has  rolled  on  as  it  began,  in  a  channel  ever 
full. — never  overflowing.  Well  did  it  merit  the  eulogium  of 
Brougham,  who  loved  himself  to  quaff  of  its  inspiring  influence, 
"  whether  it  rushed  in  a  torrent  of  allusion,  or  moved  along  in  a 
majestic  expo'sition  of  enlarged  principle,  or  descended  hoarse 
9* 


202  ATHENS—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

and  headlong  in  overwhelming  invective,  or  glided  melodious  in 
narrative  and  description,  or  spread  itself  out  shining  in  illustra 
tion — its  course  is  ever  onward,  ever  entire  ;  never  scattered, 
never  stagnant — never  sluggish."  Oh  !  for  one  tone — one  living 
breath  of  the  old  oratory  from  this,  its  early  altar  !  Oh  !  for 
one  of  those  vehement  anathemas  against  Philip,  which  have 
spread  the  fame  of  Grecian  oratory  through  the  long  centuries 
and  over  wide  seas  and  continents  ;  or  even  for  one  of  his  infe 
rior  harangues  in  favor  of  lihodian  liberty,  or  upon  the  Classes, 
on  the  Halonesus,  or  for  the  regulation  of  the  State  ;  each  and 
all,  compressed  with  energy  and  relevant  with  cogency  ;  ever 
pervaded  by  prayerful  devotion  to  the  gods  and  to  his  native 
city  !  But  we  have  no  echo  here  of  the  mighty  voice.  Greece 
is  pulseless,  and  no  tone  could  arouse  her  now.  With  the  great, 
Past  filling  the  charmed  air,  we  can  but  stand  and  wonder — in 
silence  ! 

Let  us  ascend  that  other  hill  of  solid  limestone  yet  nearer 
the  Acropolis.  The  path  upward  is  rough  and  uneven  from  the 
Bema ;  although  when  Paul  ascended  it,  to  gratify  the  Athenian 
love  of  novelty,  he  doubtless  surmounted  Mars  Hill  from  the 
other  side,  where,  worn  by  rain,  yet  still  visible,  are  steps  cut  in 
the  solid  limestone.  I  sought  my  pocket  Testament,  for  here 
was  the  spot  of  sacred  oratory. 

Boys  were  flying  kites  from  its  summit.  Donkeys  and  sheep 
were  lying  lazily  around  its  base.  Burs  and  thistles  hang  to 
each  spot  where  vegetation  may  eke  out  its  scanty  subsistence. 
A  tall,  flinty  cliff  rises  beyond  the  city  of  Athens,  which  is 
gathered  into  a  small  space  below.  The  long  olive  plains  spread 
out  beneath  the  eye  even  to  the  sea.  A  column  stands  on  a 
hill  upon  the  right,  still  higher  than  Mars,  erected  to  Philopopus 
in  the  first  century.  Before  us  is  the  Acropolis — the  invincible 
and  the  beautiful — whose  store  of  relics,  with  their  tasteful  de 
corations,  "  empearl  the  starless  ages"  of  the  world.  But  here, 
upon  this  spot,  first  broke  upon  the  world  of  philosophy,  that 
light  which  alone  enunciates  the  principle  of  life  and  immor- 


ATHENS,—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE."  203 

tality  ;  that  gospel  which  cast  into  the  shade  all  the  logomachies 
of  the  schools  and  the  discoveries  of  science,  which  reduces  into 
nothingness  even  that  beautiful  system  of  unity  and  the  highest 
improvement  of  reason,  which  PLATO,  walking  beneath  those 
green  olives  upon  the  left,  and  in  the  mellifluousness  of  his  di 
vine  tongue,  eliminated,  unassisted  by  Revelation.  What  are 
they  all,  compared  to  the  annunciation  of  Paul  from  Mars  Hill, 
when  he  declared  to  the  men  of  Athens,  the  unknown  God,  and 
that  this  God  made  the  world  and  all  things  therein,  seeing 
that  He  is  Lm~d  of  Heaven  and  earth,  dwelling  not  in  TEMPLES 
made  with  hands !  To  feel  the  force  of  this  declaration,  one 
must  stand  where  Paul  stood,  and  read  it  in  view  of  the  tem 
ples,  gorgeous  and  glistening,  ''springing  rounded  to  columns" 
from  each  mound  and  hill,  and  especially  from  that  lofty  hill  to 
which  he  doubtless  pointed,  as  he  referred — crowned  by  the 
most  splendid  architectural  triumph  of  all  time  !  An  illustra 
tion  thus  forcible  and  striking,  could  not  have  fallen  upon  dull 
ears.  It  had  its  fruit,  for  we  read  that  Dionysius,  the  Areopa- 
gite,  was  converted. 

There  are  traces  of  a  church  to  St.  Dionysius,  below  the  north 
east  corner  of  the  Areopagus,  erected  to  commemorate  his  con 
version.  Upon  the  level  of  the  hill,  above  the  steps  spoken  of, 
at  the  southeast  angle  of  the  hill,  is  a  bench,  excavated  in  lime 
stone,  forming  three  sides  of  a  quadrangle.  It  faces  the  south. 
The  Areopagus  sat  here,  it  is  said.  Dark,  dread,  tribunal ;  in 
its  nightly  sittings,  uninfluenced  by  mercy,  and  hard  as  its  ada 
mantine  seats  to  the  approach  of  clemency  ! 

The  Parthenon  rises  majestically  from  its  solid  basis.  Al 
though  the  Venetian  has  been  upon  that  basis  and  built  his  un 
gainly  towers ;  although  the  bombs  of  the  Turk,  fragments  of 
which  we  saw,  have  shattered  many  a  beautiful  capital  and 
column  ;  although  a  magazine  here  exploded,  tearing  out  the 
fine  sides  of  this  incomparable  structure,  yet  there  it  stands 
the  glory  of  the  city,  and  the  pride  of  the  sea.  The  Acro 
polis  itself  is  150  feet  above  the  level  of  the  plain.  Upon 


204  ATHENS—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

this  is  the  Temple.  In  the  temple  was  once  the  tall  statue 
of  Minerva,  whose  tall  spear,  tipped  with  a  flag,  was  the  first 
object  which  met  the  returning  sailor,  as  he  weathered  Cape 
Sunium.  The  great  plain  of  the  old  city  spread  around.  Alas  ! 
but  a  plain  compared  with  that  Athens  which  triumphed .  at 
Marathon,  Salamis,  and  Platea.  But  the  eye  may  yet  trace  the 
boundaries  of  the  Academy  and  the  Lyceum ;  whose  systems,  false 
in  many  respects,  detained,  by  their  intellectual  spell,  the  ad 
vancing  mind  of  the  world  for  fifteen  centuries.  The  bed  of  the 
Illissus — ha  !  ha !  what  a  river  for  an  American  to  look  at ! 
The  Sciota  compared  to  it,  is  as  the  Mississippi  to  the  Sciota. 
The  classic  stream  is  but  a  little  dry  run,  shrunk  into  nothing, 
and  hardly  traceable.  The  Cephissus,  which  we  crossed  in 
coming  to  Athens  from  Pireus,  is  little  larger,  but  rejoices  in  a 
sprinkle  of  water.  Upon  the  west  is  the  sea,  with  Salamis  bay 
and  isle.  The  Athenians  could  easily  have  seen  from  this  point 
the  battle  of  Salamis,  where  Themistocles  covered  himself  with 
such  glory  as  Grecians  alone  knew  how  to  bestow.  His  tomb 
still  looks  down,  in  lonely  grandeur,  upon  the  scene  of  his  tri 
umph. 

In  an  opposite  direction  rise,  in  serene  and  dim  beauty,  the 
hill  Colonos,  and  the  Pentelic  mountains,  both  kno_wn  in  the 
muse  of  Sophocles.  The  stadium,  the  space  over  which  the 
charioteers  burned  to  gain  the  goal,  is  spread  out  between  us  and 
the  distant  hills.  The  theatre  of  Bacchus,  in  which  the  drama  of 
Greece  was  displayed  with  its  furies,  demi-gods,  and  gods — lies 
below,  marked  by  a  few  columns.  Other  monuments,  erected 
by  the  Romans,  Hadrian's  amphitheatre,  and  such  like,  are  in  a 
better  state  of  preservation. 

The  temple  of  Jupiter  Olympus  detains  the  eye  longer.  It 
was  completed  by  a  Roman  emperor.  Sixteen  Corinthian  col 
umns  yet  remain  to  tell  its  superiority.  Sixty  feet  high  they 
tower ;  while  anciently  they  performed  the  circuit  of  2,300  feet. 
The  whole  length  of  the  building  was  354  feet,  and  the  number 
of  columns  was  120.  Now  as  \  look  at  its  remains,  the  eye  finds  its 


ATHENS—11  THE  EYE  OF  GJtEECE."  205 

area  covered  by  great  stacks  of  wheat,  in  the  process  of  thresh 
ing.  Men  are  superintending.  This  process  was  peculiar.  Im 
agine  three  cultivators,  or  corn  harrows,  with  teeth  turned  back 
ward  ;  these  chained  together,  and  a  man  on  each  ;  drawn  by 
horses  trampling  the  straw,  while  men  were  engaged  in  stirring  it 
up,  and  you  have  a  very  unscientific  description  of  the  threshing 
process.  Women  were  riding  the  horses,  and  stirring  the  straw, 
assisting  the  work.  A  motley  group  that,  in  the  temple  of  Ju- 
pittv  !  Why  so  much  straw  here?  It  is  a  ridiculous  law,  that 
every  farmer  shall  bring  his  wheat  or  grain  into  one  point  fixed 
by  the  officer,  there  to  be  threshed  in  his  presence,  so  that  gov 
ernment  may  take  its  toll !  American  farmers  !  how  would 
you  like  that  ?  Jupiter  Olympus  !  would  you  not  upset  such  a 
government  in  a  jiflfy  ? 

A  Spartan  band  were  playing  most  execrably  under  the  lofty 
columns  of  Jupiter's  temple.  They  had  come  as  far  as  possible 
out  of  Athens,  in  order  that  they  might  not  be  heard.  There 
is  more  harmony  for  the  eye  than  the  ear  upon  the  Acropolis. 
The  former  has  not  yet  been  exhausted.  The  statues,  fragments 
of  tracery  and  inscriptions  are  gathered  here.  In  each,  even 
though  broken  and  defaced,  one  may  see  that  excellent  device 
and  wonderous  slight,  which  formed  so  much  to  gratify  the  love 
of  beauty.  Many  a  lady  at  home  admires  an  edging,  or  inter 
jects  in  wonder  over  a  figure  in  a  fabric,  whose  fine  original  peeps 
out  of  the  broken  Pentelic  upon  the  Acropolis.  Many  a  grace 
has  been  stolen  by  genius  from  these  rude  fragments,  which 
now  shines  in  fresh  habilaments  of  stone  in  the  villas  of  Italy 
and  the  homes  of  England.  All  the  great  eras  of  history  are  dis 
tinguished  by  some  enthusiastic  sentiment  as  a  universal  princi 
ple  of  action.  That  period  of  Grecian  glory  when  the  distin 
guishing  sentiment  was  most  prominent  was  that  of  Pericles  ; 
and  that  sentiment  was  an  intense  love  of  the  beautiful,  not  alone 
in  form,  but  in  idea.  If  a  fane  of  alabaster  rose  gracefully  un 
der  the  enchanting  sky,  amid  its  groves  of  myrtles  and  olives, 
waving  under  the  gentle  breeze,  there  was  also  an  answering 


206  ATHENS—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

soul  of  beauty  dilating  under  its  shadows,  at  the  vision  of  truth 
serene,  spreading  graces  forth,  and  visible  in  their  beauty. 

PLATO — all  radiant  and  divine  ;  what  soul,  unassisted  by 
direct  intercourse  with  its  Maker,  ever  dared  a  bolder  flight 
than  his,  toward  that  Christianity  which  God  incarnate  came  to 
teach  !  Did  he  not  dedicate  his  youth  at  the  feet  of  Socrates, 
and  his  old  age  in  yonder  grove, — the  first  fruits  and  the  latter 
growth, — to  the  upbuilding  of  the  fairest  fabric  which  human 
Reason  ever  reared  in  honor  of  its  Maker  ?  Where  is  the  rule 
of  life,  the  sentiment  of  affection,  the  profound  thought,  which 
he  has  not  touched  and  adorned  1  Did  he  not  probe  the  deepest 
truth  in  Nature,  when  he  said :  "  Let  us  declare  the  cause  which 
led  the  Supreme  Ordainer  to  produce  and  compose  the  Universe. 
He  was  good ;  and  he  who  is  good  has  no  kind  of  envy.  Ex 
empt  from  envy,  he- wished  that  all  things  should  be  as  much 
as  possible  like  himself.  All  things  are  for  the  sake  of  the  good, 
and  it  is  the  cause  of  every  thing  beautiful."  In  one  thing 
only  did  he  fail.  He  gave  no  authoritative  rule  of  duty,  for  he 
was  not  commissioned  from  on  high.  Oh  !  if  his  seraphic  soul 
could  have  seen  that  glory  which  beamed  in  the  mild  star  of 
Bethlehem,  and  could  have  listened  to  the  eloquent  Apostle 
from  Mars  Hill,  as  he  dissipated  the  mists  of  all  the  schools,  by 
declaring  that  "  He  gave  to  all,  life  and  breath  and  all  things," 
and  that  "  in  Him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being," — what 
rapture  would  not  his  great  mind  have  felt,  what  humility  would 
have  graced  the  seer  of  Academus  ! 

Such  reflections,  and  such  like,  have  made  our  visit  to  Athens 
one  of  deepest  interest.  It  is  not  the  modern  city— not  the 
temples  of  Victory,  of  the  Winds,  of  Bacchus,  or  of  Jupiter 

even, it  is  not  the  prison  cut  in  the  rock,  and  pointed  out  to  us 

as  the  abode  of  Socrates  in  his  last  hours,— it  is  not  the  foun 
tains  and  caves,  not  any  external  form  of  Nature  or  Art,  which 
gives  to  Greece  its  never-dying  spell  of  enchantment.  Athens 
lies  calmly  beautiful  to  the  mental  eye,  as  the  old  haunt  of 
Wisdom,  Poetry,  Oratory,  Art,  and  Heroism.  The  eye  seeks 


ATHENS,—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE."  207 

in  vain  for  the  "  warrior's  weapon  and  the  sophist's  stole ;"  the 
Grecian  phalanx  no  longer  moves  to  the  eye,  and  the  Orators  no 
longer  spell-bind  the  people  from  the  Berna ;  but  it  is  enough 
that  here  was  once 

"The  dome  of  Thought — the  palace  of  the  soul!" 

After  examining  the  singular  construction  of  the  Parthenon, 
in  which  there  is  not  a  single  straight  line — strange  though  it 
seem — after  measuring  with  the  eye  that  singular  adaptation, 
by  which  part  is  made  to  lean  upon  and  support  part,  thus  ren 
dering  a  part  equal  in  strength  to  the  whole, — after  sweeping  the 
horizon  again  and  again,  and  standing  upon  that  "  lofty  mountain 
thought"  which  rises  out  of  the  City  of  Minerva,  we  felt  the 
spirit  stretch  into  a  view,  so  full  of  life,  and  splendor,  and  joy, 
that  its  transcript  seems  as  impossible  as  its  reality  was  sublime. 
One  should  stand  upon  the  Acropolis,  before  boasting  of  having 
seen  aught  or  felt  aught  elsewhere  on  this  round  globe. 

But  I  must  descend.  Our  guide,  the  kind  missionary,  invites 
us  to  his  house.  While  awaiting  the  hospitable  tea,  the  sun 
sinks  in  gold  below  Salamis,  and  gentle  airs  are  wafted  over  the 
Pireus.  A.  Grecian  tea  it  was — dainty  and  elegant.  With  the 
tea  is  taken  delicate  preserves  made  from  the  split  leaves  from 
the  heart  of  the  rose,  and  with  the  water,  a  sweet  transparent 
paste  called  rahatlikum,  common  in  the  Orient.  But  most  we 
delight  to  remember  the  kindly  grace  and  the  genuine  goodness 
of  Mr.  Buel.  who  saw  us  safely  upon  our  boat,  and  regretfully  left 
us  to  our  eastern  path.  Had  we  remained  longer  with  him,  he 
promised  us  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mrs.  Black,  Byron's  "  Maid 
of  Athens,"  and  the  daughter  of  Marco  Bozzaris  (pronounced 
Botezarris),  who  are  his  neighbors,  and  frequently  spend  their 
evenings  with  him.  The  former  is  now  a  respectable  matron  of 
a  large  family.  The  latter  is  no  longer  connected  with  the 
Queen's  Court. 

Athens  in  itself  has  nothing  striking  in  its  appearance.  It 
contains  23.000  people,  but  seems  no  larger  than  one  of  our  or 
dinary  county  .seats.  It  lies  in  a  triangular  shape.  I  do  not 


208  ATHENS—"  THE  EYE  OF  GREECE." 

see  how  they  can  pack  so  much  humanity  in  it.  But  its  streets 
are  narrow.  Men  need  no  more  house  room  here,  however,  than 
will  serve  as  their  couch.  The  shops  are  scanty  and  small. 
The  baking  is  done  at  public  ovens,  on  the  associated  Fourier 
principle.  There  are  plenty  of  carriages  at  Athens,  and  cheap  ; 
but  the  '  roads  are  poor,  the  streets  are  dirty,  and  illy- 
paved  and  crooked.  The  foot-walks  are  about  two  feet  wide. 
The  people  are  a  sad  mixture  of  respectable  and  miserable ;  the 
latter  predominating.  They  are  mostly  idlers ;  busying  them 
selves  as  formerly,  in  "hearing  and  telling  some  new  thing." 
Education  is  progressing.  Many  fine  buildings  for  that  pur 
pose  are  being  erected.  The  palace  and  its  gardens  stand  out 
conspicuously  in  the  treeless,  sandy  plain,  upon  the  edge  of  the 
city.  Water  from  the  wells  is  constantly  pumped  by  diligent 
donkeys,  to  irrigate  the  thirsty  soil.  The  people  depend  on  the 
goat  for  their  milk  and  butter.  Beef  is  an  unknown  luxury. 
Hymethus  still  yields  her  honeyed  wealth,  according  to  Byron. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  poetic  license.  'There  are  no  women  apparent. 
It  was  daylight  when  we  went  through.  They  only  appear,  star- 
like,  by  night.  These  domestic  items  must  now  close.  One 
should  not  judge  too  hastily  of  such  things ;  but  to  our  hasty 
glance,  Athens  modern  is  to  Athens  ancient  as  the  poorest 
fragment  of  an  old  statue  is  to  the  bright  and  symmetrical 
mould  of  a  Phidias. 

The  next  morning  found  us  darting  around  Cape  Sunium, 
upon  whose  rocky  steep  the  white  columns  of  the  temple  of 
Minerva  shine,  and  from  which  they  look  upon  the  sea.  This 
temple  was  erected  here  to  remind  the  voyager  of  the  Goddess 
of  Athens,  at  the  very  gate  of  Attica. 

I  think,  with  Lamartine,  that  a  tomb  or  temple  fills  the 
mind  with  holier  thoughts  and  purer  associations,  when  located, 
as  is  the  tomb  of  Themistocles  or  the  temple  of  Pallas,  upon  a 
lone  and  rocky  promontory, — "  afar  from  the  city's  troublous 
cries," — drawn  in  the  clear  air  against  the  beautifully  blue 
horizon,  and  rising  instinct  with  Nature  into  closer  communion 
with  heaven. 


XV. 

nf 


"Oft  of  one  wide  expanse  had  I  been  told 
That  deep  brow'd  HOMER  ruled  as  his  demesne." 

Keats. 

WE  are  now  on  board  the  fine  French  steamer  Egyptus,  dodg 
ing.  by  the  cunning  of  steam,  the  isles  of  Greece,  which  rise 
in  these  blue  waters  on  all  sides.  We  are  playing  between  Ther- 
mia,  named  from  its  warm  springs,  and  Zea,  with  Journa,  the 
old  Roman  place  of  banishment,  ahead.  It  will  take  nice  navi 
gation  to  extricate  us  from  the  complexity  of  these  islands.  But 
it  is  thrilling  to  career  amidst  these  homes  of  ancient  genius. 
They  seem  to  have  been  compensated,  for  the  bleakness  and 
barreness  of  their  scenery,  by  the  growth  of  men  in  the  elder  day. 
We  shall,  before  long,  see  the  isles  where  Homer  and  Sappho 
lived  and  sung,  and  where  God  appeared  in  rapt  vision  to  the 
soul  of  John,  the  seer  of  Patinos,  and  opened  to  him  those 
Revelations  of  Wonder,  Glory,  and  Mystery,  which  form  the 
Omega  of  the  living  word. 

It  is  verging  toward  midnight.  I  have  just  been  on  deck. 
The  gallant  steamer  is  shooting  past  the  isle  of  Homer  —  the 
loveliest  of  the  Archipelego  —  the  most  fruitful  and  picturesque 
of  the  isles  of  Greece  —  the  celebrated  Scio.  It  is  called  the 
Paradise  of  the  Levant;  and  well  deserves  the  name  for  its 
extraordinary  fertility,  and  beautiful  foliage  and  scenery.  This 
isle  is  under  the  dominion  of  the  Ottoman,  and  the  revenues  it 
affords  are  dedicated  to  the  support  of  the  mother  of  Abd-ul- 
Mejid,  the  present  Sultan,  who  lives  in  magnificence  upon  l8e 
banks  of  the  Bosphorus.  It  is  in  strange  contrast  with  the 


210  HOME  OF  HOMER. 

• 

other  isles  of  Greece  ;  which  rise  in  rocky  eminences  and  broken 
promontories  from  the  sea.  True,  it  suffered  much  in  the  Greek 
revolution.  But  its  vineyards,  its  olives,  its  citrons  and  its 
mastic  groves,  then  cut  down,  are  again  bespreading  the  island. 
The  other  isles  afford  but  scanty  homes  for  the  goat.  Man 
scarcely  plants  his  foot  upon  the  different  spots  we  have  passed 
to-day,  but  upon  Scio  he  has  revelled  amidst  the  prodigality  of 
Nature.  The  mastic  is  the  chief  object  of  cultivation.  It  is 
the  product  of  the  Lentisk  shrub,  which  covers  the  hill  slopes, 
and  which,  when  cut,  drops  the  liquid  mastic.  This  is  hardened, 
refined,  and  exported  for  the  use  of  the  Turkish  ladies.  But 
why  speak  of  all  this1?  Is  not  this  the  isle  of  Homer?  Of  all 
the  claims  to  the  honor  of  his  birthplace  Scio  has  preferred  the 
best.  Beside,  she  is  rich  in  other  names.  Ion  the  tragic  poet, 
Theocritus  the  sophist, and  Theopompus.the  historian,  all  hailed 
from  this  isle.  But  why  distinguish  Scio  amidst  such  a  frater 
nity  of  isles,  all  rich  in  the  associations  of  classical  antiquity, 

"  Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  peace ; 

Where  Delos  rose  and  Phoebus  sprung. 
The  Scian  and  the  Teian  Muse. 

The  hero's  harp,  the' lover's  lute, 
Have  found  the  fame  your  shores  refuse ; 

Their  place  of  birth  alone  is  mute 
To  sounds  which  echo  further  west 

Than  your  sire's  islands  of  the  blest." 

Never  did  bard  sing  more  truly.  Our  boat  is  full  of  Greeks. 
I  have  just  walked  amidst  them — sleeping  upon  the  deck,  utterly 
unconscious  that  they  are  passing  the  native  spot  of  him.  whose 
song  has  rung  the  name  of  Greece  through  two  thousand  years, 
and  from  continent  to  continent.  The  stars  look  down  calmly 
and  full  of  sparkle  from  their  unclouded  vault.  The  dark  isle 
riiMS  majestically  upward,  amidst  their  fretted  fires.  The 
Orient,  with  its  deep  and  infinite  splendors,  fills  the  mind  of  the 
gazer,  as  he  looks  upward  and  eastward  along  that  star-strewn 


HONE  OF  HOMER.  211 

path.  Yonder,  not  far  from  the  early  home  of  Homer,  is  the 
ancient  Troy,  around  whose  walls  the  scenes  of  Epic  glory  took 
place,  with  deities  for  actors  and  witnesses,  which  the  Bard  has 
reduced  into  numbers  as  enduring  as  his  own  name.  Fit  vantage 
ground  was  Scio,  whence  the  young  poet  might  view  the  scene  of 
his  own  future  triumphs  in  Poesy ;  fit  school  wherein  to  nurture 
that  imagination  which  dared  no  flight  it  did  not  attain.  Per 
haps  from  that  round  point  of  rock  tufted  with  yellow  verdure, 
just  opposite  our  vessel,  "he  beheld  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey, 
rise  to  the  swelling  of  the  voiceful  sea.**  There,  might  have 
been  kindled  the  first  spark  of  that  genius  which  outlives  the 
triumphs  of  all  Conquerors. 

Thanks  to  thee,  Old  Shore  !  Thou  who  wert  the  parent  of 
art,  and  gave  that  Homer  to  time,  which  time  has  given  to  our 
modern  world  !  These  isles  while  they  furnished  rocks  and  hills, 
bays  and  mountains,  as  the  haunts  of  his  muse  ;  yon  rocky  shore 
which  we  have  left  behind  us,  while  it  furnished  the  cloud-capped 
Olympus  towering  upward  amid  fraternal  mounts,  for  his  heroes 
and  gods,  also  cherished  his  minstrelsy.  Athens  received  his 
Epos ;  her  philosophers  criticised  it,  in  unity  and  part ;  her 
orators  quoted  it ;  her  Olympic  games  echoed  its  song  ;  her  drama 
was  moulded  by  it ;  her  sculptors  formed  its  images  and  her 
architects  enshrined  them  in  Parthenons  and  Theseums.  Rome 
gave  to  him  apotheosis,  before  which  power  bowed  in  wonder, 
love  and  awe.  Alexandria  hid  his  works  in  hieroglyphs,  but  at 
last  redeemed  the  ancient  fame  of  Egypt  by  transmitting  them 
to  us  in  their  present  form.  What  would  painting  have  been 
without  the  Venus  and  Diana ;  sculpture  without  the  Apollo 
and  Jove  ;  or  art  without  the  Iliad  ?  Legislation,  too,  while  it 
cherished  his  works,  found  in  them  the  spirit  of  its  best  enact 
ments.  The  literature  of  the  world  owes  to  them  its  Virgil, 
Dante,  Ariosto,  Tasso,  Milton,  Wieland,  Klopstock,  its  Henriade 
and  Auraucana ! 

We  are  apt  to  look  upon  Homer,  only  as  a  singer,  whose 
songs  have  no  practical  bearing  upon  the  world.  To  the  philo- 


'212  HOME  OF  HOMER. 

sophical  historian,  they  have  deeper  significance.  True,  their 
first  effect  was  the  introduction  of  other  songs,  and,  in  time,  a 
superior  literature  in  Greece.  But  this  literature  proved  the 
salvation  of  even  Christendom.  If  the  classics  were  the  bulwarks 
around  the  city  of  God,  laid  by  the  ancients  through  their  own 
history,  is  not  Homer  the  strongest  tower  of  defence  upon  that 
bulwark  ?  The  study  of  Platonism  and  of  the  ethics  of  the  rival 
school  of  Aristotle,  burned  in  the'  cloisters  of  the  dark  ages, 
when  even  Christian  truth  was  almost  gone  out.  The  destruc 
tion  of  Byzantium  scattered  the  Grecian  literature.  The  key 
to  the  New  Testament  thus  found  its  way  into  Florence  under 
the  Medici,  and  into  Wittenberg  under  the  elector,  until  Protest 
antism  had  her  lion-hearted  Luther.  Catholicism  her  sarcastic 
Erasmus,  and  the  world  its  mild  Melancthon  and  fervent  Fenelon. 
England  had  her  Duns  Scotus.  whose  scholastic  learning  was  ex- 
haustless,  and  who  gathered  around  him  thirty  thousand  students 
at  Oxford,  where  he  taught  them  the  logic  of  Aristotle,  with  a 
power  which  drew  forth  the  encomium,  "  had  the  genius  of  Aris 
totle  been  unknown,  that  of  Scotus  could  have  supplied  his  place." 
And  it  was  the  ethics  of  Aristotle,  thus  taught,  which  brightened 
the  mind  of  Wyckliffe,  and  gave  to  England  her  first  translation 
of  the  Bible,  and  the  reformation.  To  this  Bible  and  this  refor 
mation  America  owes  her  present  proud  position.  They  unlocked 
the  prisons  of  power.  They  unloosed  the  disfranchised  people. 
The  individual  was  rescued  from  the  congealed  hierarchy.  The 
liberties  of  speech ;  body;  property  and  conscience  were  enunci 
ated  ;  and  to  Homer  in  the  last  analysis  belongs  a  great  part  of 
the  glory  !  Ah  !  if  the  shade  of  Homer  could  see  (we  trust  his 
shade  is  better  off  than  the  original  corpus]  this  steamer  of  ours, 
with  its  poetry  of  motion,  parting  the  waves  more  fleetly  than 
his  most  arrowy  pinnace,  and  working  more  fearfully  powerful 
than  his  most  potent  engine  against  the  Trojan  wall ;  if  he  could 
see  this  phase  of  a  new  civilization,  his  visions  of  Olympus  and 
dreams  of  Divinities,  would  vanish  before  the  solid  workmanship 
of  his  own  brother  man. 


HOME  OF  HOMER.  213 

What  avails  this  pondering  ?  Onward  we  move  ;  the  French 
flag  waves  in  the  wind ;  the  black  guns,  like  sleeping  lions,  lie 
about  the  deck ;  the  huge  pipe  emits  its  clouds  of  smoke  ;  the 
illuminated  compass  directs  the  silent  helmsmen  ;  the  place  of 
Homer's  birth  is  mute  and  silent  under  the  shadow  of  night ;  a 
Small  "  echo  further  west"  than  even  the  blest  isles,  remembers 
the  blind  old  bard  in  his  fugitive  pencillings;  and  we — dart 
away  to  new  scenes  and  other  shores. 


XVI. 

nf 


"  His  eye  looked  o'er  the  dark,  blue  water 

That  swiftly  glides  and  gently  swells 
Between  the  winding  Dardanelles.11 


BYRON. 


WE  have  seen  the  Orient,  if  not  Jerusalem.  Smyrna,  where 
one  of  the  seven  churches  was  located,  and  the  point  whence 
fruit  is  exported  and  where  the  camels  bring  the  resources  of 
Syria  to  market,  was  seen  and  enjoyed.  Its  figs  and  chibouques; 
its  dirt  and  its  dignity;  its  dogs  and  donkeys;  its  dreariness  and 
picturesqueness,  were  all  seen  and  felt  in  one  day's  stay  ;  and 
our  vessel  turned  her  prow  toward  Constantinople,  where  Orient 
alism  swells  in  complete  luxuriousness  under  the  dominion  of 
the  dervishes  and  the  Sultan.  "VVe  entered  the  Dardanelles  about 
evening,  having  passed  the  isle  of  Mitylene,  or  Lesbos,  (Sappho's 
birthplace),  and  having  had  a  glimpse  of  the  great  mountain 
of  Athos,  rising  out  of  the  sea  beyond  the  isle  of  Lemnos.  The 
Dardanelles  is  generally  as  wide  as  the  Mississippi,  with  a 
strong  current  toward  the  Mediterranean  from  the  sea  of  Mar 
mora.  The  land  is  fine,  rolling  and  cultivated ;  and  here  and 
there  we  meet  with  enterprising  and  beautiful  villages  on  the 
Asiatic  and  European  sides  of  the  straits.  Our  boat  stopped 
some  two  hours  at  the  city  of  Dardanelles,  where  there  are 
numerous  castles,  as  outposts  of  defence  to  Constantinople. 
The  castles  are  supposed  to  be  the  ancient  sites  of  Abydos  and 
Sestos.  A  strip  of  stony  shore,  projecting  between  two  high 
cliffs,  furnished  the  European  extremity  of  Xerxes'  bridge,  by 
which  he  crossed  from  Asia  to  the  invasion  of  Greece.  This 
part  of  the  Dardanelles  is  also  celebrated  as  the  point  where 


THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM.  215 

Alexander's  army,  under  Parmenio,  crossed  from  Europe  to 
Asia.  Here,  too,  the  Ottoman  first  began  his  inroad  upon 
Europe,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  under  Sulieman.  Here 
"  Leander  swam  the  Hellespont "  to  visit  his  Hero,  and  Lore! 
Byron  did  the  same  in  one  hour  and  ten  minutes,  and  wrote 
poetry  to  herald  the  feat  to  posterity. 

Before  leaving  the  Dardanelles,  I  made  a  singular  acquaint 
ance.  It  was  none  other  than  that  of  a  Bey.  He  observed  me 
examining  a  map  of  Constantinople,  and  politely  undertook 
some  explanations.  As  I  could  not  understand  Turkish  nor  ho 
English,  we  had  a  pleasant  time  of  it — very,  until  I  got  a  book 
which  contained  words  of  both  tongues,  when  we  amused  each 
other  by  reciprocating  the  pronunciation  of  words.  He  had  a 
large  number  of  servants,  and  sat  on  his  fine  mat,  smoking  his 
chibouque,  the  ashes  of  which  were  emptied  and  the  tobacco  sup- 
lied  by  a  servant,  from  time  to  time.  The  tube  of  the  pipe  con 
descended  to  rest  some  feet  from  his  mouth  in  a  shining  pan. 
The  Turk  always  carries  a  comboloio,  or  rosary  of  beads,  to 
assist  conversation.  What  assistance  these  black  beads,  which 
travel  over  the  henna-stained  fingers  of  the  lady  and  the  eifemi- 
nate  hand  of  the  gentleman  of  the  Orient,  render  in  the  inter 
change  of  sentiment,  those  may  understand  who  feel  nonplussed 
in  conversation,  without  the  aid  of  a  watch-key  in  their  hands 
or  a  cane  head  in  their  mouths.  The  Spanish  lady  resorts  to  a 
similar  inspiration,  by  the  unfolding  of  her  fan  and  a  coquettish 
snap  as  she  closes  it.  The  Turk,  however,  converses  but  little. 
He  prefers  a  passive  occupation.  His  favorite  pastime  is  back 
gammon,  a  board  of  which  our  Bey  carried  along.  It  is  a  great 
game  with  the  luxurious  idlers  of  the  Capital,  who  stake  large 
sums  on  their  success.  He  was  particularly  sharp  in  it,  as  one 
of  our  ladies  can  testify,  with  whom  he  played.  I  have  not  seen 
as  fine  a  gentleman  since  coming  among  the  Turks.  We  gave 
him  an  invitation  to  America.  He  said  he  would  call  on  us  at 
our  Hotel.  Would  like  to  have  him  bring  a  dozen  or  so  of  the 
Mrs.  Beys  along. 


216  THE  HEART  OF  MAIIOMETAN1SM. 

We  found,  on  approaching  Constantinople,  many  active  busi 
ness  places,   and  we  were   surprised   to  see  furnaces  with  tall 
chimneys,  smoking  in  earnest.    These  elements  of  progress  were 
soon  left  behind,  however.     Forts  and  walls  begin  to  indicate 
that  we  were  passing  out  of  the  sea  of  Marmora  into  the  Bos- 
phorus.     We  ran  between  the  city  of  Scutari,  in  Asia,  and  Con 
stantinople,  on  the  European  side,  and  turned  around  the  point 
into  the  river  called  the  Golden  Horn,  which  divides  the   city 
proper  from  Para — the  place  for  the  Franks,  Ambassadors,  and 
Hotels.     Our  first  view  of  this  magnificent  panorama  was  a  dis 
appointment.     We  had  heard  and  read  much  of  the  view  of  this 
famous  city,  with  its  towers  and  domes,  beaming  and  golden.    A 
fog  hid  the   city  at  first.     Before  we   rounded  the  point,  dis 
appointment  began  to  be  dissipated  with  the  mist.     The  expand 
ing    splendors    opened.       The    minarets    pointed   upward,    the 
cupolas  swelled  brightly  amidst  rising  eminences  of  buildings 
stretching  along  the  hill  slopes,  and  unfolding  brilliant  involu 
tions,  as  we  rounded  the  point  where  the  Seraglio  rose,  like  a 
dream,  out  of  the  clear  waters,  and  where  Saint  Sophia,  the 
graceful  Queen  of  a  thousand  beauteous  mosques,  gathered  her 
cluster  of  minarets  and  domes.     I  have  seen  the  vision,  since, 
and  know  it  to  be  real.     Enchantment  held  her  fairy  wand  be 
fore  my  eye  at  the  first  glance,  and  in  the  joyful  amazement,  I 
could  not  observe,  only  wonder — fearful  that  the  dream  would 
be  dissolved,  like  magic  views. 

The  green  foliage  of  the  cypress,  interspersed  as  it  always  is 
in  the  Moslem  cities,  adds  to  the  charm.  The  mirror  of  the 
Bosphorus,  ranged  around  with  the  unique  palaces  of  the 
pashas,  and  the  marble,  yet  airy  seraglio,  together  with  royal 
abodes  of  gorgeousness,  reflects  three  large  and  distinct  cities, 
each  enormous,  and  each  divided  by  its  own  silver  waters  sleep 
ing  at  its  feet.  One  half  of  the  magic  ring  is  set  within  the 
hills  of  Asia,  and  the  other  half  within  those  of  Europe.  Far 
beyond  Scutari  is  spread  the  long  range  of  Olympus,  glistening 
under  the  warm  sun,  with  snow,  and  hanging  like  pure  clouds 
of  white  in  the  deep  sky. 


THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM.  217 

A  finer  harbor  could  not  be  conceived.  The  Bosphorus  flows 
between  two  promontories,  separating  the  Stamboul  from  Para, 
Galata,  and  Tophane.  The  largest  man-of-war  can  here  float ; 
while  around,  over  a  space  which  can  accommodate  1,200  sail  of 
the  line,  eighty  thousand  little  boats,  called  caiques,  and  resem 
bling  the  canoe  somewhat  in  its  sharp  point  and  feathery  levity, 
dart  with  graceful  facility.  These  are  the  hackney  coaches  and 
cabs  which  play  over  the  silver  limpid  streets  of  this  wondrous 
city  of  cities.  These  boats  are  called  by  the  natives  kcrlongist, 
or  swallow-boats,  and  are  formed  of  the  thin  planks  of  beech 
wood.  They  are  always  dry  and  neat,  and  carved  within  and 
without.  It  is  dainty  work  to  ride  in  them,  as  they  are  as  liable 
as  a  canoe  to  upset.  Cushions  upon  the  bottom,  in  Eastern 
style,  is  the  mode.  It  is  a  delicious,  cool  ride,  after  threading 
the  mazes  of  the  dirty  streets  of  the  city,  as  we  have  had  abun 
dant  cause  to  remember.  You  may  fancy  what  these  cities  are, 
in  one  grand  view;  which  requires  80,000  boats  around  the 
quays. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  expect  a  description  of  this  city.  Our 
stay  in  it  must  be  limited  to  a  few  days ;  and  these  will  be  filled 
with  laborious  sight-seeing.  I  must  leave  much  to  your  imagin 
ation,  and  use  the  suggestive  style.  No  place  can  have  more 
attractions  just  now  for  the  traveller,  than  this  half-way  point 
between  two  extremes  of  civilization.  Society  is  in  the  transi 
tion  state.  The  old  prejudices  of  the  Moslem  are  giving  way 
slowly  before  the  progress  of  the  age.  Here,  where  Mahomet 
holds  imperious  sway,  and  where  the  Sovereign  revels  like  a 
Sardanapalus  in  the  most  gorgeous  palaces,  and  rejoices  in  his 
wives  by  the  hundred ;  here,  where  the  intolerant  Mussulman 
prays  five  times  daily,  and  holds  his  Rarnazan  with  more  than 
Puritan  rigidity — here  there  is  a  leaven  working  which  is  des 
tined  to  leaven  the  whole  lump  of  that  strange  mixture  of  heaven 
and  earth,  goodness  and  badness,  which  emanates  from  the  Koran 
and  fills  all  Moslemdom. 

No  city  has  had  wilder  vicissitudes  of  fortune  than  this  ;  and 
10 


218  THE  HEART  OF  MA1IOMETAN1SM. 

withstood  them  all.  The  sieges  it  has  undergone  triumphantly 
number  twenty-four !  It  has  been  taken  six  times  !  Alcibiades, 
Severus,  Constantine,  Dandolo,1  Paleologos  and  Mahomet  II.. 
severally  succeeded  in  entering  its  harbors  and  gates.  These 
clear  waters  and  swelling  hills  ;  those  lofty  heights  of  snow,  and 
yon  "  golden  horn"  of  plenty — have  they  not  looked  alike,  more 
tolerant  than  its  several  tenants,  upon  the  Grecian  Commander 
and  the  Roman  Emperor ;  the  Persian  Chosroes  and  Arabian 
Califs  :  Venetian  Doges  and  French  Counts  ;  Bulgarian  Krales 
and  Avarian  Chakars,  Sclavonian  Despots,  and  last  and  longest, 
Ottoman  Sultans.  And  when  Bonaparte's  prophecy  shall  find 
fulfilment,  and  Europe  shall  become  Cossack,  may  not  Saint 
Sophia  again  rejoice  in  its  old  Greek  worship,  and  that  glittering 
Seraglio,  with  its  golden  towers,  echo  the  iron  tread  of  the 
Czar! 

But  this  is  a  little  too  fast.  Europe  must  play  "  teeter -tawter" 
over  the  balance  of  power  for  many  a  year  yet,  until  some  new 
Napoleon  shall  arise  to  upset  all  balances,  or  the  people,  the  true 
Napoleons  of  the  Empire,  can  assert  their  popular  sovereignties, 
and  bring  government  to  its  proper  sphere,  as  the  protector  of 
the  mass,  and  not  the  pamperer  of  the  pride  of  a  few. 

The  romance  of  Constantinople  dies  as  soon  as  you  begin  to 
thread  its  dirty,  splashy,  bad  paved,  narrow,  doggy,  donkeyfied, 
carriageless,  up-and-down  streets.  There  is  not  a  back  alley  in 
New  York,  which  is  not  better  than  the  best  street  here ;  and 
the  comparison  is  an  insult  to  the  city.  In  going  along,  you 
cannot  look  at  any  thing,  for  fear  of  having  your  head  cracked 
against  the  burden  of  some  donkey,  or  the  load  of  some  broad- 
shouldered  carrier  ;  or  for  fear  of  treading  upon  one  of  the  many 
thousand  brindle  dogs,  who  act  the  part  of  scavengers  by  day, 
and  play  that  of  howling  dervishes  by  night.  If  dodging  those 
;nid  the  innumerous  criers  with  heads  full  of  dainties  and  fruits  ; 
it'  missing  the  red-capped  and  brown-robed  Jew;  the  long  curly 
black-hatted  Persian;  the  wily  Armenian,  and  the  turbaned. 
Turk ;  if  you  are  not  run  over  by  that  mounted  Pasha,  attended 


THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM.  219 

by  his  slave  on  foot ;  if  you  do  not  run  over  those  clumsy  look 
ing  women  in  yellow  boots  and  blue  mantles,  with  head  envel 
oped  (save  eyes)  in  white  crape — being  both  black  and  white, — 
Turkish  ladies  and  their  Nubian  slaves  ;  if  perchance  you  avoid 
that  solitary  gold-figured  vehicle  drawn  by  one  horse,  and  called 
a  carriage,  which  comes  thundering  along,  attracting  as  much 
attention  as  a  menagerie  in  High-street,  Columbus  ;  if  unsplashed 
and  with  sane  mind,  amidst  the  heathenish  howls  and  cries,  and 
with  -sane  body,  amidst  the  opposing  currents  of  the  barbarous 
thoroughfares,  you  reach  your  hotel,  you  may  draw  a  breath  as 
long  and  free  as  mine  at  the  end  of  this  longitudinous  sentence. 
Our  time,  while  here,  has  been  occupied  in  driving  about  the 
city  and  environs  in  the  carriage  of  our  kind  vice-consul,  Mr. 
Dainese,  an  Italian  by  birth,  and  a  noble-hearted  liberal.  Mr. 
Marsh  is  absent.  Every  possible  attention,  however,  that  we 
could  require  has  been  shown  us.  We  were  furnished  by  him 
with  a  firman  and  government  officer,  wherewith  to  visit  the 
mosques,  and  in  company  with  Jews,  French  and  English,  started 
out  boldly.  It  was  a  little  doubtful  whether  we  could  obtain 
admission  or  not,  as  it  is  now  what  is  called  Ramazan  time  with 
the  Mahometans.  This  is  a  sacred  time,  which  lasts  for  thirty 
days,  during  which  all  good  ]Mussulmen  are  not  allowed  to  eat, 
drink,  smoke  or  snuff  all  day.  They  sleep  mostly  during  the  day, 
and  at  night  begin  the  work  of  smoking  and  feasting.  The 
mosques  are  filled  day  and  night.  It  is  Lent,  and  wretchedly 
do  they  look  who  keep  it.  It  is  a  little  doubtful  whether  it  is 
kept  strictly.  Were  it  kept,  you  would  see  more  miserable 
sights  upon  the  Bosphorus,  where  the  poor  Moslems  row  all  day, 
earning  their  bread  by  the  sweat  of  their  brow.  At  night  the 
coffee-houses  are  crowded  with  Turks,  who  wait  not  to  eat,  be 
fore  they  take  the  chibouque,  and  puff  away  clouds  of  incense  to 
the  prophet. 

Well,  as  I  said,  we  started  for  the  mosques.  But  first  we 
were  taken  across  the  stream  to  the  famous  Seraglio.  There 
we  had  to  draw  boots,  or  put  on  sacred  sheep-skin  slippers  over 


220  THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM. 

them.  A  ridiculous  plight  we  figured,  slipping  along  the  marble 
floors,  wending  our  way  through  apartment  after  apartment,  under 
roofs  of  fretted  gold  and  many-shaped  glass.  Fountains,  with 
golden  fishes  gliding  in  their  basins,  cooled  the  rooms.  Elegant 
tracery  and  ornaments :  ottomans  of  rarest  richness  ;  places  for 
coifee,  for  smoking,  for  repose ;  a  view  of  the  Bosphorus  and  of 
verdurous  gardens  full  of  fragrance  and  flowers — everywhere  told 
us  of  the  dreamy  Orient,  and  that  here  was  the  very  select  home 
of  indolence,  ease,  luxury  and — Eunuchs !  We  went  into  the 
harem ;  but  the  birds  ^had  flown  across  into  Asia,  where  they 
were  caged  in  one  of  the  other  (he  has  dozens)  palaces  of  the 
Sultan.  The  wicker  was  there  still ;  and  the  long  gallery  was 
hung  with  landscapes  of  every  scene  and  clime — a  gift  to  the 
harem  by  Rescind  Pasha. — Here  the  Sultanas  took  their  airings 
and  peeped  out  into  the  free  world.  Poor  prisoners  in  golden 
chains  !  Flowers  bloom  at  your  very  windows,  but  ye  cannot 
pluck  them.  Heaven  arches  how  lovingly  above  you  \  but  ye 
are  the  thoughtless  slaves  of  the  grossest  sensuality,  cribbed  and 
cabined  in  these  walls — no  longer  children  of  nature  as  God 
made  ye  ! 

Finally  we  came  into  splendid  flower  and  fruit  gardens — 
tastefully  arbored  and  arched  with  the  green  architecture,  in 
multiform  beauty,  on  every  side.  The  walls  were  tapestried  and 
festooned  with  flowers  and  running  shrubs.  The  Turks,  more 
kind  than  the  Italians,  freely  permitted  us  to  carry  away  bouquets. 
We  learned  that  the  associations  connected  with  the  Seraglio, 
have  not  rendered  it  a  favorite  resort  of  the  present  Sultan ;  for 
it  was  here  in  the  time  of  his  father,  that  the  Janizaries  com 
mitted  their  acts  of  cruelty,  which  the  lofty  walls  of  the  Seraglio 
were  not  strong  enough  to  check.  But  no  such  associations  dis 
turbed  our  enjoyment.  The  fragrance  of  the  mind  will  ever 
arise  as  each  impression  of  these  scenes  of  oriental  and  regal 
enchantment  is  renewed  by  memory. 

After  visiting  the  armory,  we  went  to  the  Mosque  of  St. 
Sophia — the  most  splendid  fabric  (except  St.  Peter's)  in  the 


THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM.  221 

world.  While  we  stood  in  expectancy  of  admission,  with  our 
slippers  in  hand,  we  were  astonished  at  the  appearance  of  a  Nu 
bian  slave,  with  a  whip  or  cane,  and  possessed  with  a  devil,  a 
shade  or  so  blacker  than  himself.  He  was  in  an  agony  of  inspi 
ration — sent  by  the  priests  to  drive  the  infidels  away,  and  well 
he  performed  the  office — the  black  rascal !  As  our  guide  trans 
lated  it  freely  to  me,  he  told  the  firman  and  the  prime  minister's 
officer,  that  it  was  Ramazan ;  that  he  should  go  to  h — 1 ;  that 
he  brought  the  Giaours  here  (meaning  us  well-behaved  Chris 
tians),  and  if  he  did  not  leave,  some  terrible  imprecation  would 
fall  on  his  head.  He  accompanied  his  words  with  blows  from 
the  cane  over  the  firman's  shoulders,  who  bowed  and  scraped, 
saying  his  "  salaam  cffendi"  (thanks,  gentleman  !) ;  and  not  daring 
to  drop  the  Nubian,  for  fear  of  the  priests,  five  hundred  of  whom 
would  have  rushed  out  to  help  their  slave.  Quite  a  mob  of 
Moslems  had  collected.  We  left  rather  incontinently.  To 
morrow,  early,  we  try  it  again,  I  trust  with  better  success. 

It  is  our  national  birthday.  Although  we  are  now  at  the 
extremest  point  of  our  journey,  and  nearly  7,500  miles  from  our 
beloved  land,  yet  the  memory  of  its  glad  patriotism,  bursting 
from  millions  of  hearts  in  unison  with  our  own,  brings  us  closely 
home  again.  I  will  not  devote  my  chapter  to  any  raptures  or 
gratulations  over  my  native  land.  These  would,  however,  come 
deeper  and  fuller  from  the  heart  of  the  pilgrim,  than  from  the 
home-citizen.  Our  nation  has  so  much  to  thank  God  for,  that 
none  but  a  traveller  can  feelingly  and  fully  raise  the  orison. 

We  kept  the  4th  of  July,  by  looking  at  the  Sultan.  We 
rowed  across  the  Bosphorus,  and  were  rejoiced  to  find  ourselves 
in  time  to  see  him  returning  out  of  the  mosque.  He  is  obliged 
to  show  himself  to  the  people  every  Friday,  and  always  at  fires, 
if  the  alarm  does  not  cease  within  a  certain  time.  To-day  he 
was  mounted  on  a  splendid  white  charger,  caparisoned  in  gold, 
and  rode  very  languidly,  yet  not  without  the  grace  which  betrays 
the  Saracenic  origin,  between  his  files  of  soldiers  and  subjects. 
We  were  permitted  by  the  officers  to  stand  even  before  some 


222  THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM. 

pashas,  as  we  were  travellers  ;  and  saw  him  very  well.  His  ap 
pearance  is  prepossessing.  He  has  an  unshorn  face,  rather  pale, 
with  mild,  dark,  and  very  small  eyes.  A  sort  of  indolent  dreami 
ness  played  about  his  lips  and  in  his  eye,  indicating  his  character, 
which  is  that  of  a  mild,  kind-hearted  prince,  careless  of  politics 
and  given  up  to  pleasure.  He  devotes  only  some  three  hours 
a  day  to  the  affairs  of  his  empire,  and  the  rest  of  his  time  to 
his  religious  devotions,  to  the  supervision  of  his  palaces,  which 
in  modern  European  style  are  rising  on  the  banks  of  the  Bospho- 
rus,  to  the  society  of  his  brother,  mother  and  son,  and  no  doubt 
a  considerable  time  to  the  gallantries  and  attentions  incumbent 
upon  him  as  the  head  of  a  harem  of  four  hundred  ladies,  into 
which  no  male  is  ever  allowed  to  intrude,  except  the  eunuchs, 
who  number  about  seventy. 

The  Sultan  is  well  beloved  by  the  people,  whose  interests 
his  government  has  favored.  His  manners  are  said  to  be  unas 
suming  and  plain,  and  his  disposition  frank  and  amiable.  He 
is  not  too  good  natured,  however,  to  discriminate,  for  he  always 
selects  men  of  skill  and  science  for  the  rewards  and  honors  of 
the  kingdom.  His  age  is  twenty-nine.  A  long  life  of  useful 
ness  may  yet  be  his.  His  health  was  formerly  precarious  ;  and 
even  now  he  appears  effeminate  and  weak.  He  reminded  me  of 
the  portraits  I  saw  of  Charles  the  Second  of  England.  The  dis 
tinguished  part  which  Turkey  has  taken  lately  in  the  politics  of 
Europe,  has  been  owing  to  the  ability  and  foresight  of  Rescind 
Pasha,  the  Prime  Minister. 

An  Englishman  remarked  at  our  table,  that  "he  always  took 
off  his  hat  to  crowned  heads,  and  that  he  must  do  it  when  the 

Sultan   appeared."      Oh  !    Spooneydom   and   Flunkeydom  ! as 

Carlyle  would  say — are  ye  not  dead  yet  ?  Did  ye  not  die,  poor 
wooden  heads  !  when  England  turned  off  her  vagabond  Stuarts 
to  spout  to  the  winds  their  divinojure?  No.  I  saw  your  em 
bodiment  to-day  doff  his  beaver  to  the  "  crowned  head  ;"  and 
poor  dunderbrain  !  he  thought  it  was  right  loyal  and  good  of 
him.  I  took  off  my  poor  straw  hat,  too  ;  but  it  was  on  compul- 


THE  HEART  OF  MAHOMETANISM.  223 

sion.  Like  Pickwick  at  the  training.  I  was  between  two  files  of 
soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets,  and  received  admonition  which  I 
heeded,  until  I  happened  to  think  it  was  the  4th  of  July  !  and 
then  I  covered  my  republican  pate,  instanter. 

It  was  quite  antique  and  interesting  to  see  the  Sultan's  train, 
led  by  a  eunuch,  whose  lips  would  weigh  less  than  ten  pounds, 
(including  teeth)  and  jetty  dark,  with  a  splendid  robe  and  golden 
sword.  Bringing  up  the  rear  came  the  petitioners,  with  their 
petitions  in  hand,  following  the  Sultan  to  the  palace,  there  to 
deliver  them.  It  reminded  me  of  what  I  had  read  of  Oriental 
ism,  in  its  regal  phases.  It  was  one  of  those  ancient  customs, 
which  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  time  has  not  eradicated. 
The  changes  which  have  been  wrought  in  the  Ottoman  Empire 
and  in  the  East  generally,  since  Napoleon  directed  the  genius  of 
his  Power  hitherward,  have  been  momentous.  His  enterprise 
was  of  little  practical  utility  at  the  time  ;  but  it  opened  the 
richest  portions  of  the  earth  to  the  eyes  of  the  French,  Russian, 
and  English  ;  and  by  their  respective  cupidity  the  Turkish 
power  has  been  rendered  less  liable  to  aggression  from  either, 
and  more  formidable  to  all.  Beside,  steam  has  carried  com 
merce  to  its  primeval  marts  where  Tyre  and  Sidon  once 
flourished,  and  over  these  sacred  spots  where  rove  the  Arab 
hordes.  The  reactionary  influence  of  the  west  of  Europe  upon 
the  East,  rendered  imperative  by  the  possessions  of  England  in 
India,  of  Russia  in  Circassia,  and  France  in  northern  Africa,  and 
by  which  the  Oriental  nations  will  be  constantly  aroused  to  im 
provement,  is  already  evident  in  the  augmentation  of  trade  at 
Alexandria,  Smyrna,  in  the  Bosphorus,  and  in  the  Red  Sea,  and 
in  the  constant  communication  of  travellers  with  the  inhabitants 
of  these  most  interesting  countries.  May  we  not  hope  that  the 
new  elements  of  our  age,  entering  into  the  social  organizations  of 
the  East,  shall  give  again  to  this  land  that  conspicuous  greatness 
which  GOD  allotted  to  it  when  our  world  was  young ! 


XVII. 

JZxtofs  Urrbirt  trpnn  tjjj  (Dritnt 


Charm'd  magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam, 
Of  perilous  seas  in  faery  lands." 


T)AINTERS  have  been  known  to  confess  that  in  copying  one 
of  Rembrandt's  portraits,  whose  peculiarity  is  the  darkness 
of  the  face  silvered  over  with  delicate  lights,  hundreds  of  the 
most  exquisite  lineaments  were  taken  off,  and  still  the  likeness 
was  not  caught.  The  microscope  was  applied  ;  and  lo  !  another 
and  yet  another  "  gloomy  light  much  like  a  shade"  appeared, 
which  being  transferred  to  the  copy,  the  expression  came  at  once. 
So  I  think  it  is,  in  men's  observation  upon  manners  and  things 
in  travelling.  We  cannot  reproduce  the  original  as  it  gleams 
upon  the  eye.  Hundreds  of  minute  features  may  be  transcribed, 
but  the  original  still  lies  in  its  chiara  obscura  like  a  Rembrandt, 
until  you  apply  a  woman's  microscopic  eye  to  the  object,  when 
the  lineaments  come  forth,  and  the  expression  is  happily  trans 
ferred.  Men  lack  that  circumstantialness  which  women  possess, 
and  by  which  the  latter  picture  with  fidelity,  if  they  do  not  color 
as  highly.  In  our  visit  to  the  East,  I  have  relied  upon  a  lady- 
companion  to  apply  the  microscope,  while  my  pen  has  been  en 
gaged  in  roving  around  from  hill  to  hill  and  from  sea  to  sea,  from 
isle  to  isle  and  from  shore  to  shore.  The  particularity  of  the 
description  of  the  Seraglio,  as  well  as  of  the  visit  to  the  Sweet 
Waters,  will  form  a  complement  to  my  poor  chapter,  and  complete 
its  unity.  Need  I  apologize  for  departing  from  the  ordinary 
routine  of  book-making,  by  inserting  the  impressions  of  another  ? 
Will  not  the  ladies  at  least  give  their  sex  a  hearing  ?  It  is  rare 


A   LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT.  225 

that  a  Buckeye  daughter  rambles  amidst  the  camel-crowded 
streets  of  the  mosque-adorned  cities  of  the  East ;  and  her  pen- 
cillings  in  familiar  style  ; — well — well,  they  must  speak  for  them 
selves,  which  they  do,  as  follows  : 

Could  I  convey  to  the  reader  on  paper  a  conversation  which 
occurred  this  morning,  it  might  somewhat  account  for  this  ven 
turous  chapter.  I  may,  at  least,  confess  thus  much,  that  it  is 
somewhat  "  on  compulsion,  Hal."  My  pages  may,  or  may  not, 
contain  that  which  is  novel ;  if  not,  they  at  least  will  be  a  novel 
ty,  journeying  so  far  to  greet  you.  Can  it  be  possible  that  such 
a  distance  lies  between  us  and  our  homes  ?  We  have  seen  so 
much,  and  yet  have  hastened  hither  with  such  incredible  speed, 
that  Time  and  Space  have  alike  been  annihilated. 

The  reader  has,  I  think,  been  advised  of  our  wanderings,  so 
long  as  we  were  within  the  precincts  of  the  European  world. 
Shall  it  be  my  pleasure,  now,  to  chat  awhile  of  the  Orient  ?  We 
found  the  first  touches  of  Orientalism  in  Greece — but  it  did 
not  strike  us  so  peculiarly  as  it  has  since,  in  cities  farther  east. 
Greece  we  visited  for  its  ruins,  and  were  amply  repaid  in  the 
view  from  the  Acropolis  alone,  with  its  surrounding  Forum  and 
Mars  Hill,  the  temples  and  battle-scenes,  and  the  whole  spirit  of 
the  scenery  which  beams  with  delicacy,  refinement  and  taste.  I 
cannot  leave  Greece,  however,  without  remembering  the  parting 
meal  which -we  took  with  our  kind  friend  jMr.  Buel,  the  Baptist 
Missionary.  After  the  fatigues  of  the  day  at  Athens,  we  re 
turned  to  his  house  at  the  Pireus,  which,  as  well  as  the  repast, 
impressed  us  so  kindly  and  peculiarly,  that  I  would  fain  remem 
ber  them  both  in  expression  and  thought ;  both  were  so  Grecian, 
and  yet  so  home-like.  The  house  is  a  fine  two-story  one.  with 
an  entrance  into  a  vestibule — a  stairway  on  either  side,  leading 
to  a  common  landing,  half  way  up,  which  ends  in  a  stairway  turn 
ing  to  the  centre  of  the  room  above.  Folding  doors  open  into 
a  room  large  and  airy,  with  walls  and  ceiling  fitted  up  after  the 
manner  of  those  at  Pompeii.  A  double  window  opens  out  upon 
a  balcony  ;  from  which  we  viewed  a  charming  sunset,  all  golden 
10* 


%2Q  ^  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

and  radiant  in  beauty  over  the  bay  of  Salamis,  as  well  as  the 
form  of  a  lion  couchant,  cut  out  of  the  mountain  against  the  dis 
tant  sky.  A  bedroom  opened  on  one  side  and  a  studio  on  the 
other ;  both  having  doors  to  the  stairway.  The  three  rooms 
consequently  possessed  a  front  view  of  one  of  the  finest  water 
scenes  we  have  seen,  always  excepting  Naples ; — and  that  scene 
rendered  doubly  and  thrillingly  attractive,  as  the  place  where 
Themistocles  triumphed  and  Greece  was  saved. 

Mr.  Buel  had  been  distributing  the  ten  commandments  du 
ring  a  festival  of  the  Greek  church,  and  was  thus  the  innocent 
cause  of  a  mob  at  Corfu ;  and  though  he  was  under  the  pro 
tection  of  the  authorities,  yet  the  influence  of  the  priests  was  so 
great  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  island  at  short  notice  for 
Malta ;  from  thence  he  came  to  Smyrna,  and  then  to  the  Pi- 
reus  ;  where  he  has  been  for  the  last  six  years  subjected  to 
much  annoyance  and  vexation  in  various  lawsuits  connected  with 
his  mode  of  teaching  and  proclaiming  Christianity  in  Greece. 
He  is  now  firmly  and  successfully  established  in  his  post. 

"At  dark,  the  servant  called  us  to  tea,  where  I  had  the  honor 
of  presiding,  as  Mrs.  B.  had  been  for  some  time,  and  was  still 
absent  in  America,  upon  a  visit.  It  was  a  charming,  neat  little 
table,  and  I  shall  remember  it  particularly,  being  desirous  of 
emulating  its  simple  elegance  when  ivc  shall  go  to  housekeep 
ing.  It  pleased  another.  Tea,  toast,  bread  and  butter  ;  a 
white  acidified  cream-dish,  flavored  and  slightly  resembling  our 
Dutch  cheese  ;  the  expressed  quintessence  of  the  heart  of  roses 
(a  kind  of  eastern  sweets.)  and  delicious  sponge-cake  ; — What 
could  have  been  more  daintily  delectable  ?  Keats,  in  his  "  Eve 
of  St.  Agnes,"  hints  at  a  similar  regalia  of  viands.  We  enjoyed 
it  finely  as  I  fully  demonstrated  by  my  long  delay  thereat.  But 
tea  is  past, — and  we  retire  to  the  drawing-room,  where  in  pleas 
ant  converse  we  hold  the  approaching  night  hours  as  in  a  spell 
until  it  is  time  to  be  aboard.  Mr.  Buel  escorted  us  thither. 
It  was  a  pleasant  sea-row ;  for  the  lightning's  vivid  flash 
lighted  up  sky  and  water  with  a  strange  glow  ;  and  the  circling 


A   LADTS    VERDICT   UPON  THE  ORIENT.  227 

brilliants  of  lights  that  shone  on  the  Pireus  made  earth  rival 
heaven  in  its  stellar  splendor.  But  there  was  no  rain  with  the 
lightning  flash.  Indeed,  that  would  have  been  too  much  of  a 
luxury.  We  have  scarcely  felt  a  shower  since  we  left  home, 
save  the  one  of  the  arching  prisms,  beneath  which  we  glided  out 
of  that  dark  and  cavernous  tunnel  and  into  the  gay  city  of 
Marseilles ! 

We  reached  our  ship — rather  an  unpleasant  change  from  so 
home-like  a  visit  (how  heartily  tired  I  had  become  of  the  boat), 
although  the  officers  greeted  us  with  the  kindly  courtesy  so 
peculiar  to  the  French.  How  provoking  not  to  know  more  fully 
their  language.  One  half  of  the  pleasure  is  thus  lost  through 
want  of  knowledge, — that  is,  the  travelling  part,  for,  when  sta 
tionary,  we  can  occupy  ourselves  sufficiently  in  sight-seeing. 

The  monotony  of  the  voyage,  however,  was  somewhat  broken 
by  the  numerous  isles, — some  vine-clad  and  olive-colored,  but 
mostly  rocky  and  bleak,  which  are  known  as  the  Archipelago, 
and  celebrated  as  the  birthplaces  and  homes  of  the  most  gifted 
minds  of  ancient  Greece.  We  awoke  on  the  morning  of  the 
30th  of  June  in  the  harbor  of  Smyrna,  Asia  Minor.  This  is 
the  point  from  which  travellers  start  to  see  the  seven  churches 
of  Asia,  of  which  that  at  Smyrna  is  one.  It  lies  along  a  slope 
of  the  hill-side.  On  the  right  hand  is  a  large  grove  of  cypress, 
pointing  out  the  Moslem  Cemetery.  The  roofs  are  brown, — 
from  amidst  which  ascend  the  tall  minarets  and  round  domes  of 
the  mosques.  The  large  castle  sweeps,  from  the  high  hill  above, 
the  circular  view.  Deep  shadows  checker  with  warm  sunlight 
the  coast  far  around.  From  the  green  bay  which  curls  all  over 
with  white-caps,  the  city  lifts  itself  up,  a  dreamy,  picturesque 
vision  of  truly  Asiatic  scenery  !  What  a  quaint  old  Orientalism 
it  is! 

We  were  early  on  shore,  and  went  directly  to  a  hotel ;  but, 
how  unfortunate  !  they  refused  to  give  us  breakfast  until  nine 
o'clock.  This  was  not  to  be  endured  for  a  moment ;  and,  as  the 
ladies  declared  their  willingness  to .  resort  to  a  cafe,  we  shook 


228  -4  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

the  dust  off  of  our  feet  in  a  truly  oriental  style,  and  left  with 
marked  indignation  !  We  had,  by  some  queer  turn  of  luck,  been 
thrown  into  the  way  of  an  odd  specimen  for  a  guide, — a  tall, 
gaunt  Jew,  bad-featured  and  bearded.  His  soiled  garments  and 
coarse  brown  Abrahamic  tunic,  gave  him  any  thing  but  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  desirable  cicerone  to  the  ignorant  and  respectable 
stranger. 

But  a  fine  cafe  soon  brought  us  relief,  in  its  large  and  airy 
proportions,  its  delightful  water-view,  and,  what  came  more 
especially  home  to  us,  its  substantial  edibles.  Chibouques  and 
Hobble-gobbles  (Turkish  pipes)  were  plenteous.  The  bubbling 
water,  curling  smoke,  and  the  indolent  air  of  the  smokers,  indi 
cated  the  luxurious  East.  As  there  was  little  to  be  seen  here 
but  the  bazaars,  it  was  only  desirable  to  while  away  the  time 
before  the  ship's  departure ;  so  bidding  Abraham  onward,  we 
followed  in  close  Indian  file.  The  streets  are  quite  narrow,  and 
we  could  not  do  otherwise,  considering  the  opposing  stream  of 
people  to  be  met,  and  the  single  files  of  mules,  camels,  donkeys 
and  horses,  all  to  look  out  for.  We  threaded  street  and  alley, 
turned  corners  innumerable,  and  finally  entered  upon  the  Ba 
zaars.  These  are  the  marts  of  trade.  They  are  low-roofed 
houses  with  projecting  roofs,  touching  in  the  centre  and  forming 
a  completely  shaded  arch.  The  little  rooms  on  either  side  are 
some  ten  feet  square.  These  furnish  every  thing  that  fancy 
can  desire,  from  the  richest  Persian  silks  and  cloth  of  gold  to 
the  veriest  trifle  or  toy  of  a  European  city. 

We  stopped  to  purchase  some  Otto  of  Roses,  and  before  we 
finished,  we  had  collected  quite  a  motley  group  around  us ;  and 
what  was  worse,  it  did  not  leave  us.  Two  of  the  group  we  had 
noticed  at  the  boat ;  but  all  of  them  tarried  where  we  tarried, 
and  by  skilful  manoeuvring  contrived  to  reach  each  spot  which  we 
reached  at  the  same  time.  Their  aim  was  to  forestall  us  in  our 
purchases,  adding  twenty  per  cent,  to  the  prices,  or  make  the 

piastres  out  of  us.     Poor  S !  it  did  not  agree  with  his  ideas 

at  all — this  numerous  train — and  he  wielded  his  Vesuvius  club 


A  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT.  229 

with  a  still  fiercer  demonstration.     As  for  P ,  he  seemed 

quite  at  ease,  and  considered  it  as  adding  to  our  importance, 
this  truly  oriental  train.  They  might  be  taken  for  the  train  of 
some  Grandee  or  Nabob  ! 

As  for  Abraham,  we  tortured  him  incessantly  with  orders  to 
send  them  back  ;  and  he,  poor  fellow,  seeing  our  suspicions  were 
already  aroused,  did  his  best,  but  in  vain.  One  moment  coming 
out  upon  a  square,  one  old  fellow  would  be  seen  quietly  quaffing 
a  draught  from  the  fountain,  no  doubt  out  of  breath  with  run 
ning  round  the  corner, — another  would  pop  out  here,  another 
there,  and  so  on, — as  if  we  possessed  the  ring  of  Aladdin  upon 
which  these  genii  waited.  The  Vesuvius  club  was  no  cause  of 
fear.  But  it  was  becoming  almost  unendurable.  "  Good-bye," 
says  S to  one,  "  we  can  dispense  with  your  farther  com 
pany."  "  Oh  !  oh  !  never  mind,  I'm  walking  for  pastime,"  was 
the  provoking  answer,  as  he  swung  his  beads  carelessly  over  his 
arm,  and  with  most  perverse  air  dogged  on  after  us.  Finally, 

oh !    crowning  thought,   S bethinks  him  of  the  Janizary, 

and  intimates  that  he  will  call  one.  Whereupon  they  quickly 
cried  out,  "  Oh  yes,  we  go,  we  go,  give  us  four  piastres."  "  No, 
you  rascals,  not  one  ;"  and  away  they  vanished,  as  if  Aladdin 
had  lost  his  ring. 

We  passed  a  mosque,  and  on  tiptoe  took  a  peep  within.  It 
was  quite  plain  and  had  a  high  gallery  bounded  by  an  iron  rail 
ing.  The  gallery  was  to  be  occupied  by  the  ladies.  The  ceil 
ing  was  covered  with  innumerable  suspended  chains,  to  which 
were  attached  (they  do  say)  any  quantity  of  ostrich  eggs  and 
horse-tails,  as  well  as  lamps.  We  only  saw  the  latter.  A  far 
ther  glimpse  within,  at  the  open  door,  showed  us  a  floor  covered 
with  matting,  nothing  more.  We  were  not  permitted  to  enter 
unless  the  shoes  were  taken  off,  which  was  quite  too  much  trou 
ble.  We  saw  the  Turks  perform  their  ablutions  at  the  fountain 
in  front.  The  fountain  looked  quaint  enough  surrounded  by 
the  stooping  figures,  with  red  turbans ;  each  with  his  hands  un 
der  the  little  water-spouts.  When  this  ceremony  is  over,  they 


230  *  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

enter  the  porch  of  the  church,,  slip  easily  out  of  their  shoes,  and 
walk  quietly  within. 

There  were  few  ladies  out  during  the  daytime,  and  these 
few  were  shopping.  They  were  enveloped  in  their  mantles. 
A  white  piece  of  cloth  covers  the  head  like  a  nun's  veil,  from 
which  drooped  a  black  gauze  covering.  Nose  and  eyes  were  thus 
concealed  from  the  gazer,  but  they  themselves  could  see  very 
easily.  The  white  upper  piece  was  connected  with  a  white 
piece  below,  which  hid  the  chin  and  lower  part  of  the  face. 
I  had  imagined  that  the  concealment  of  the  beauty  of  the 
Turkish  ladies  might  be  quite  desirable  in  their  own  country. 
In  some  way  I  had  been  led  to  make  the  mistake,  that  a 
veil  always  hides  .  something  beautiful.  The  idea  of  mystery 
plays  in  the  imagination  and  lends  enchantment  to  every  thing 
dim  and  forbidden.  But  when  I  came  to  see  black  Nubian 
damsels,  darker  than  night,  so  dark  that  ebony  might  reflect  a 
lily  pallor  beside  them,  veiled  in  the  same  way,  I  could  but 
laugh  outright.  I  wonder  what  possessed  them  to  adopt  that 
custom.  And  then  the  clumsy  yellow  boots  that  they  manage 
to  slide  over  the  ground  in;  one  can  imagine  nothing  more 
cumbersome  than  their  appearance.  Indeed,  the  whole  figure 
looks  to  us  very  ungainly  and  ungraceful.  I  have  just  read  in 
some  late  papers,  kindly  handed  to  us  by  our  consul,  of  the  in 
novations  at  home  in  relation  to  ladies'  dress,  and  of  the  intro 
duction  of  these  foreign  costumes,  among  which  the  Turkish  is 
mentioned.  I  should  hope  the  latter  will  not  be  adopted ;  at 
least  such  as  we  have  seen  worn  in  the  street.  The  costume 
for  the  house  may  be  preferable.  We  have  seen  none  in  the 
street  such  as  are  spoken  of  in  the  American  papers.  Perhaps 
what  is  generally  known  in  America  as  the  Turkish  dress,  with 
the  full  pantaloons  and  jacket,  is  the  Persian  properly.  If  any 
innovation  should  be  made  on  present  fashions,  and  there  is 
room  for  improvement,  the  Persian,  somewhat  contracted,  would 
recommend  itself  for  taste  and  comfort. 

We  passed  on  to  the  Caravansary  bridge,  supposing  it  to  be 


A  LADY^S    VERDICT   UPON  THE  ORIENT.  231 

some  grand  sight,  as  our  anxious  Abraham  seemed  to  think  we 
must  certainly  see  it.  We  found  merely  a  stone  bridge  over  a 
small  yellow  stream ;  but  the  cafes  that  lined  the  shore  were  a 
charming  retreat  for  the  weary  or  pleasure-seeking  of  the  city. 
Jewish  children  huddled  about  us,  to  stare.  We  gave  them 
some  delicacies,  whereat  they  were  much  pleased,  kissing  their 
little  hands  in  token  of  thankfulness.  Women  negligent  in  at 
tire,  with  hair  dishevelled,  were  to  be  met  with,  unveiled.  But 
these  were  Jewish.  We  sat  beneath  the  shade  of  some  noble 
old  sycamores.  These  trees  furnish  grateful  shade  to  the  sun- 
oppressed  pilgrims  of  the  East.  They  seem  placed  here  by 
Providence  for  this  very  beneficent  end.  The  tall  cypresses 
opposite  kept  their  guardian  watch  over  the  white-turbaned 
tombs  beneath.  The  cemetery  was  full — literally  full  of  grave 
stones.  Those  for  married  men  are  capped  with  a  turban  cut  in 
the  white  marble.  A  virgin's  tomb  bore  a  simple  rose  branch.  I 
never  saw  the  cypress  attain  to  such  a  height,  or  so  numerous  as 
in  these  cemeteries ;  but  soon  I  learned  that,  at  the  death  of  a 
dear  friend  or  relative,  it  was  formerly  the  custom  to  plant  a 
cypress  at  the  head  of  the  grave  ;  but  which  "custom  of  late  has 
fallen  into  disuse.  Our  guide  proposed  to  ascend  Castle  Hill, 
but  we  declined,  from  fatigue,  satisfied  with  the  pleasant  place 
we  had  already  found. 

These  grounds  are  the  nightly  resort  of  all  Smyrna.  The 
ladies  never  make  their  appearance  until  after  dinner  at  seven 
or  eight  o'clock  (our  evening),  and  then  they  are  always  dressed 
richly  and  gorgeously.  They  laugh,  dance,  sing,  eat  ices,  and 
return  to  their  homes  at  one,  two,  and  three  in  the  morning. 
Thus  changing  night  into  day,  they  become  pale  and  sallow,  in 
fact  lose  all  freshness  of  color,  and  become  any  thing  but  the 
beauties  we  have  always  been  taught  to  consider  them.  Sun 
days  are  their  especial  gala  days. 

How  indolent  these  Orientals  are  !  They  si  in  front  of 
their  shops,  smoke  and  take  it  easy.  Their  walk  is  very  indo 
lent.  Indeed,  it  is  said,  that  the  only  time  that  they  are  ever 


232  A  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

known  to  quicken  their  pace  is  in  bearing  a  corpse  to  its  grave, 
when  they  hurry  fast  enough.  They  believe  that  the  agony 
commences  as  soon  as  death  takes  place,  and  this  only  ceases 
the  moment  when  the  body  has  been  consigned  to  its  final 
home.  Singular  belief ! 

Now  and  then  an  Arab  would  come  sweeping  by.  The  fierce 
look,  turbaned  head,  wild  roving  air,  and  brace  of  pistols,  betray 
the  nation.  They  looked  like  the  veriest  banditti.  Perhaps 
they  were  ;  for  we  have  been  told  that  there  are  many  around 
Smyrna,  and  that  they  even  venture  into  the  town,  through 
which  they  pass  unmolested  and  untouched.  Their  spies  are 
innumerable.  *  They  know  every  ship  that  lands,  and  every 
stranger  that  tarries.  Murders  and  robberies  are  committed 
nightly,  without  and  within  the  city.  It  is  quite  unsafe  to  ven 
ture  on  any  of  the  excursions  around  the  country.  Only  a  few 
days  ago  two  young  sportsmen  were  out,  and  both  were  captured. 
The  robbers  sent  one  back  with  a  message  to  the  father  of  the 
other,  that  if  a  hundred  pounds  ransom  were  forthcoming  for 
his  son,  he  might  be  restored  to  him.  If  the  next  day  passed 
without  the  ransom  being  received,  one  arm  should  be  sent  to 
his  father ;  the  second  day,  the  second  arm  ;  and  so  on,  quarter 
by  quarter,  until  the  money  was  paid.  They  keep  advised  of 
the  wealth  of  each  citizen,  so  as  always  to  fall  within  bounds 
when  naming  the  ransom.  The  soldiers  are  regular  Falstaifians 
in  character.  Their  European  dress,  which  they  are  obliged  to 
adopt,  has  quite  unfitted  them  for  anything  like  a  display  of 
courage.  Six  were  sent  for  two  robbers,  and  came  back,  after  a 
skirmish,  without  them.  What  bravery?  What  a  city,  and 
what  protectors  ?  The  troops  number  over  a  thousand,  but 
should  they  leave  the  city  in  search  of  the  robbers,  they  are  not 
sure  of  those  they  leave  behind — the  population  is  so  mixed. 

Donkeys  with  huge  burdens,  camels  with  huger  ones,  and 
man  a  complete  beast  of  burden,  were  sights  that  continually 
met  our  eyes.  Large  stones  were  carried  on  the  backs  of 
men,  who  almost  bent  double  under  their  weight.  Will  it  be 


A  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT.  233 

believed  when  I  say,  that  our  Vice  Consul  at  Constantinople 
saw  one  of  these  carriers  bear  over  one  thousand  pounds  on  his 
back  over  two  hundred  yards  ? 

Since  arriving  at  Constantinople,  so  many  sights  of  an  East 
ern  cast  have  met  my  eye,  that  they  have  become  almost  too 
familiar  to  be  depicted.  Novelty  always  lends  her  aid  in  tran 
scription.  Constantinople  presents  a  rich  panorama,  with  its 
towers,  domes,  and  minarets,  as  we  glide  up  the  Bosphorus  into 
the  noble  harbor.  But  the  beauty  all  lies  in  the  distance  ;  for 
when  once  the  city  is  entered,  the  charm  evanishes.  The  streets, 
bazaars,  and  throngs  of  strange  costumes,  are  similar  to  those  I 
have  described  at  Smyrna. 

But  they  tell  me  that  there  is  one  place  where  I  shall  not 
meet  with  disappointment.  The  Seraglio  needs  no  distance  to 
lend  it  enchantment.  I  had  read  Irving's  Grenada  and  Al- 
hambra,  and  pictured  to  myself,  in  imagination,  the  fountains 
and  halls,  minarets  and  groves,  the  varied  and  Oriental  luxu- 
riousness  of  that  Moorish  palace  ;  and  when  they  told  me.  that 
I  might  see  in  the  Seraglio  its  resemblance,  my  heart  bounded 
at  the  idea  even  of  a  partial  fulfilment  of  that  longing  desire  to 
see  the  original. 

This  far-famed  palace  occupies  the  spot  of  the  ancient  city 
of  Byzantium,  on  the  extreme  eastern  point  of  the  promontory 
extending  towards  Asia,  and  forming  the  entrance  to  the  Bos 
phorus.  It  is  triangularly  shaped,  and  nearly  three  miles  in 
circumference.  The  palace  has  nothing  to  boast  of  in  its  out 
side  appearance.  The  interior  is  a  singular  clustering  of  houses 
without  order,  which  have  been  added  from  time  to  time  at  the 
caprice  of  the  Sultanas. 

Our  party  of  twenty-five,  English,  French,  Jews  and  Ameri 
cans,  sought  the  nearest  point  to  the  waters  of  the  Golden 
Horn,  entered  a  caique,  and  crossed  over  to  the  Seraglio.  We 
were  detained  for  some  time  at  the  Cafe  on  the  opposite  shore, 
waiting  for  the  firman.  Then,  with  the  officers,  we  entered 
upon  our  tour  of  inspection.  The  lower  story  consisted  of  a 


234  A  LADFS    VERDICT   UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

long  hall,  paved  with  tesselated  gravel  stones,  and  of  servants' 
rooms  surrounding  and  opening  into  it.  At  the  far  end  was  the 
stairway,  upon  reaching  which  we  were  obliged  to  glide  into 
slippers.  Such  a  slipping  time  as  there  was  too  !  Imagine  it — 
a  lady's  delicate  slipper  encased  in  the  size  furnished  for  a  gen 
tleman's  boot.  First  one  shoe  and  then  another  was  left  be 
hind,  in  our  vain  efforts  at  this  novel  style  of  walking.  Our 
guide  was  in  constant  requisition,  bringing  up  the  truants,  who 
were  obliged  to  resume  their  places  again,  to  undergo  the  same 
penance.  We  reached  the  sacred  precincts  above,  and  made 
our  entrance.  That  was  a  fine  noble  hall  into  which  we  were 
ushered,  although  it  had  a  covering  of  matting  on  the  floor.  It 
at  once  completely  initiated  us  into  the  whole  mystery  of  Ori 
ental  luxuriousness. 

I  can  but  group  the  Seraglio,  for  it  was  one  series  of  elegant 
apartments ;  marble  basins,  bagnios  and  gushing  fountains. 
These  gorgeous  halls,  the  chaste  cool  baths  and  their  attached 
rooms  of  reclining  after  bath-taking — formed  a  complete  scene 
of  deliciousness.  They  were  somewhat  similar  to  each  other, 
with  their  ceilings  of  fretted  gold — paintings  of  richest  tracery, 
walls  of  landscapes,  rounded  and  arched  recesses  overlooking 
the  sea,  windows  with  rich  tapestry  hangings,  gilded  clocks  and 
miniature  temples  ornamenting  the  side  places — divans  and 
chairs  of  crimson  figured  damask,  and  gold  cloths — and  the 
coverings  of  white  linen  in  which  these  latter  were  encased,  giv 
ing  a  summery  air  to  the  whole, — all  combined,  made  the  Se 
raglio  too  enrapturing,  entrancing,  and  unreal,  almost  to  be  con 
ceived  of — a  place  for  reveries  and  dreams  only, — the  halls  of 
poesy  and  sleep. 

The  floor  and  walls  of  the  baths  were  of  white  marble,  and 
the  light  from  above  entered  through  a  honey-comb  of  white 
ceiling.  Spigots  turned  the  water  out,  which  fell  into  white 
marble  shells,  or  bath-basins  ranged  in  perfect  neatness.  We 
walked  down  the  long  airy  corridors  where  the  ladies  of  the 
harem  promenade  and  exercise.  One  side  of  the  longest  corri- 


A  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT.  235 

dor  was  latticed  with  delicate  net-work,  through  which  the  Oda 
lisques  could  peep  into  gardens  of  every  kind  of  fruit  and  flower  ; 
the  other  side  being  adorned  with  numerous  paintings  and 
engravings,  representing  every  scene  in  nature  to  which  they 
were  denied. 

The  tea-room  was  a  most  delicious,  cool  retreat,  close  to  the 
water's  edge ;  and  being  a  story  or  more  below  the  others,  it 
seemed  half  grotto-like.  A  fountain  played  in  the  centre,  build 
ing  its  silvery  dome  with  flakes  of  purple  and  ruby  fire,  glitter 
ing  in  the  colors  of  the  morning.  Its  basin,  square  and  quite 
shallow,  was  fixed  in  the  marble  floor,  in  the  midst  of  which 
swam  shoals  of  golden  fishes.  A  hundred  pipes  when  playing? 
send  the  water  and  spray  high  up  to  the  ceiling.  Side  fountains 
there  were  too,  in  which  the  water  first  plashing  up  to  the  height 
of  the  head,  falls  over  into  a  marble  shell.  This,  as  it  fills,  runs 
over  into  its  counterpart  below,  and  so  on  successively  like  the 
little  step  water-falls  we  saw  at  Pompeii.  At  one  end  stood  a 
triangular-shaped  pyramid  of  honey-comb  work.  This  also  was 
a  fountain,  the  water  of  which  issued  from  innumerable  honey 
comb  orifices.  It  was  quite  unique  and  quaint.  But  the  rounded 
recess  on  the  sea  side  was  the  favorite  spot  where  the  luxurious 
Ottoman  and  his  Sultanas  sat  or  reclined  at  their  coffee-sipping. 
Was  there  ever  so  enchanting,  so  cool  a  grotto  ?  The  refresh 
ing  sea  breeze,  the  balmy  air  of  the  playing  fountains, — the  soft 
music  of  their  dashing,  trembling,  spraying  waters, — the  wavy 
plash  of  the  Bosphorus  without,  against  the  walls,  and  the  hum 
of  the  distant  city  borne  across  the  Golden  Horn, — the  plying 
caiques  with  their  arrowy  points,  darting  by  in  graceful  rapidity, 
the  noble  steamer  and  more  lofty  prow  of  the  huge  man-of-war 
cutting  and  parting  the  clear  sea  ;  in  fine,  the  noble  harbor  of 
Constantinople  with  its  busy  mart,  and  the  hills  that  rise  in 
mellow  distance  above ;  all  this — as  well  the  scene  without  as 
the  scene  within, — glorious  Nature  and  luxurious  Art, — the  spell 
of  delight,  the  dream  of  enchantment ;  who  can  picture  ? — not 


236  ^  L  ADZ'S    VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

we ;  and  only  those  can  feel  it,  who  are   there   embathed  in  its 
enjoyments. 

I  wish  I  could  peep  in  upon  its  occupants  at  some  even  tide, 
when  the  sun  through  leaves  and  lattice  checkers  in  shadow  the 
marble  floor,  to  see  if  content  and  happiness  dwell  within, — to 
see  how  far  such  a  life  is  fraught  with  pleasure  and  true  content. 
They  say  the  Sultanas  are  gay  and  happy.  They  have  every 
thing  to  make  them  so,  educated  as  they  are  only  in  their  own 
Eastern  customs.  The  Circassian  beauty  knows  no  higher  desire 
or  ambition  than  to  become  the  Nourmahal — "  Light  of  the 
Hare  .»n,"  to  some  Moslem  chief.  She  possesses  a  charm  for  the 
senses.  It  is  enough  to  make  her  the  chosen  one.  Of  course 
such  an  one,  though  beauteous  as  one  of  the  Houri,  can  know 
nothing  of  that  ideal  delight  of  the  soul  which  rises  superior  to 
the  sense,  or  that  longing  for  liberty  which  we  should  have  under 
similar  circumstances.  Dr.  J  oimson,  in  his  Rasselas,  has  repre 
sented  this  longing  to  be  free,  even  though  bound  by  golden 
chains  in  splendid  palaces. 

The  gardens  of  the  Seraglio  are  luxuriant  in  tree  and  shrub. 
The  tall  cypress  waves  ever  green  and  fresh.  The  vine  clings 
to  the  wall,  and  hides  its  bare  face  with  the  green  tendril  and 
leaf.  Tender-eyed  gazelles  peep  out  of  leafy  coverts,  while 
arches  and  pyramids  of  green  bend  and  rise  in  every  vista.  A 
mimic  lake  occupies  the  centre,  within  which  there  is  an  island, 
and  rustic  bridges  gracefully  span  the  reach.  The  walks  are  of 
shells  (some  of  which  we  gathered),  margined  with  flowers  of 
every  kind,  of  which  the  Turks  arc  not  quite  so  selfish  as  the 
Europeans.  Orange  bowers  are  pendent  with  golden  fruitage, 
and  fragrance  fills  the  air.  These  proclaim  a  perfection  in  the 
garniture  of  Nature,  not  as  if  it  were  imported  or  exotic,  but  as 
if  it  were  at  home  in  its  own  charming  bower.  But  I  cannot 
particularize  farther  ;  suffice  it  to  say, 

"  No  greener  garden  ever  was  known 
Within  the  bounds  of  an  earthly  king." 


A  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT.  337 

The  Armory,  which  we  next  visited,  is  one  immense  repository 
of  arms.  Multiplied  stacks  of  long  guns,  short  guns  and  pistols, 
were  arranged  in  regular  figures  of  squares  and  pyramids.  Here 
was  the  ancient  mail-clad  knight,  with  his  jointed  armor  and 
the  long  spear  which  the  lancer  poised  mid  air,  before  sending 
it  to  the  heart.  Here,  too,  was  the  sabre  and  kettle-drum.  The 
room  containing  the  keys  to  the  different  towns  and  cities  own 
ing  the  sway  of  the  Sultan,  was  quite  apart.  The  keys  were 
gold  and  silver  mounted,  and  were  neatly  arranged  in  a  case. 
The  key  of  Jerusalem,  and  that  of  Mecca,  shone  conspicuously. 
These  keys  in  the  armory  finely  symbolize  the  power  of  the 
Moslem,  as  it  sweeps  over  the  Orient,  entering  each  city's  portal, 
and  controlling  the  wild  Arabs  of  the  desert. 

The  Sultan  Mahmoud's  tomb  was  a  gorgeous  affair,  and  pe 
culiar  as  the  home  of  the  royal  dead.  Here  it  was  necessary  to 
go  through  the  same  formula  of  exchanging  shoes,  although  the 
floor  was  covered  with  matting.  The  tomb  is  in  the  centre  of 
the  temple,  surrounded  by  those  of  two  sisters  and  three  daugh 
ters.  Each  tomb  is  made  in  a  sort  of  square  pyramidical  form, 
with  a  railing  of  most  beautiful  inlaid  pearl-wood.  Velvet 
cloths  and  elegant  cashmere  shawls  were  flung  over  these.  Huge 
massive  silver  candelabras,  and  massive  tapers  of  wax,  stand  at 
the  head  and  foot  of  each,  connected  by  a  silver  chain  to  the 
pillared  corners.  Over  the  taper  was  an  extinguisher,  figuring 
Death  !  The  book-stands  of  inlaid  white  pearl,  holding  the 
richly  bound  Koran,  and  glistening  in  the  sunlight,  stood  open 
near  each  tomb,  with  the  gold  embroidered  cloth  thrown  lightly 
over  them.  This  pearl  work  gave  a  brilliancy  to  the  tomb  more 
than  I  ever  imagined  could  be  displayed  even  by  Oriental  re 
gality. 

But  our  most  charming  visit,  and  the  only  ride  we  indulged 
in,  was  to  the  "  Sweet  waters  of  Europe."  Our  Consul's  kind 
invitation  had  been  accepted  to  ride  thither  in  his  carriage.  The 
streets  are  horribly  paved.  A  corduroy  road  at  home  would 
have  been  far  preferable.  Out  of  curiosity,  I  inquired  the  length 


238  A  LADY'8    VERDICT  UPON  THE 

of  time  a  carriage  would  last  here ;  the  answer  was  two  years. 
At  the  edge  of  the  city  we  came  upon  the  Sultan's  favorite  drive, 
which,  consequently,  is  an  open  road,  and  as  finely  graded  as  any 
in  England.  We  passed  the  writing  school,  the  Polytechnic 
Institute,  and  the  Barracks.  The  soldiers  seem  to  have  the 
most  elegant  residences,  save  the  Sultan's  palaces,  and  the  villas. 
A  long  steep  hill  descended,  led  us  into  the  valley,  which  is  some 
two  miles  in  length.  The  waters  of  this  vale  are  quite  sweet. 
The  view  is  called  finer  than  that  of  the  sweet  waters  of  Asia, 
on  the  Asiatic  side.  The  road  winds  with  the  stream,  and  be 
neath  the  shade  of  numerous  groves  of  sycamores,  with  a  leaf 
like  our  oak,  and  elms,  with  leaves,  looking  like  our  maples. 
These  groves  are  filled  of  a  festal  Friday,  and  upon  every  even 
ing,  when  music  and  gayety  prevail ;  but  now  in  Ramazan,  it 
was  lone  and  deserted.  No  voice  is  heard,  save  that  of  the  harsh 
croaking  frog.  ^ 

In  this  delightsome  vale  the  Sultan  has  one  of  his  summer 
residences  ;  but  we  saw  only  the  exterior.  A  marble  Kiosk 
(summer-house)  is  just  at  the  base  of  a  dashing  waterfall.  The 
water  plays  all  around  it,  while  a  bridge  spans  the  stream  below. 
The  stream  gradually  widens,  until  it  forms  the  Golden  Horn, 
flowing  through  and  dividing  the  city.  As  we  ascended  the  hill, 
leaving  the  vale  behind  us,  we  came  upon  the  Jews'  burying 
ground,  which  is  a  sea  of  white  stones,  all  plain,  and  lying  flat  or 
standing  up,  with  not  a  tree  or  shrub  to  relieve  the  barenness  of 
the  spot.  Our  Consul  remarked,  that  it  was  strange  the  Jews  cared 
so  little  for  the  adornment  of  their  cemeteries,  and  he  wondered 
why  it  should  be  so.  One  of  our  party  assigned  as  the  reason, 
their  strange  belief,  that  the  body  did  not  rise  where  buried,  but 
walked  in  agony  underground  to  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat, 
where  it  was  judged ;  hence  no  associations  of  life  and  beauty 
clustered  around  the  burial  spot,  and  hence  no  adornment. 
When,  Oh!  shall  I  speak  it?  Yankeeism  to  the  last,  anotlu-r 
suggests,  "..what  a  capital  speculation  it  would  be  to  run  from 
this  spot,  an  underground  railroad."  Truly  there  would  be  no 


A  LADY'S   VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT.  239 

lack  of  passengers,  judging  by  the  infinity  of  stones,  and  the 
natural  desire  to  finish  so  unpleasant  a  journey  ! 

An  old  Greek  priest  came  trotting  by  with  great  gravity,  but 
as*  soon  as  he  had  passed  us,  spurred  his  horse  into  a  wild  gallop, 
How  funny  it  looked — a  priest  playing  mad  John  Gilpin  over 
the  grave-yard  of  the  Jew,  his  full  black  robe  and  flying  veil 
dancing  at  right  angles  before  the  wind. 

As  we  neared  the  city,  the  sunlight  played  upon  the  win 
dows  in  flames  of  living  fire — no  wonder  when  the  houses  are 
almost  all  windows. 

How  out  of  place  a  Cemetery  would  appear  to  us.  as  a  resort 
for  pleasure  and  promenade, — a  place  for  eating,  drinking,  smok 
ing,  and  musical  performances.  But  so  it  is  here,  where  Fatal 
ism  buries  her  dead  without  a  tear,  and  the  mourner,  bowing  to 
the  blow,  strokes  his  beard  and  ejaculates,  "  God  is  great  /" 
"  God  is  great -•;"  and^etires  stoically  to  his  ordinary  pursuits. 
Chairs  and  tombstones  furnish  the  seats,  and  the  cypress  tree 
the  canopy,  for  these  evening  and  midnight  carousals,  which  are 
even  more  frequent  during  the  Ramazan.  We  reached  the  Ho 
tel  at  nine  o'clock,  two  hours  after  the  customary  dinner  time 
here. 

Passing  by  our  delightful  sail  over  the  Bosphorus,  past  villas 
and  palaces — our  lucky  sight  of  Mahomet  Ali,  the  Pasha  of 
Egypt — of  the  prophet  of  Mecca  with  his  strange,  solemn  coun 
tenance,  and  more  than  all,  of  the  Sultan  himself — a  gorgeous 
Oriental  pageantry  :  passing  by  the  rich  and  ever-variant  scenes 
of  the  streets,  the  busy  bazaars  and  prayerful  mosques, — I  may 
not  forget  to  mention  one  most  especial  peculiarity  of  this  city, 
and  that  is  its — dogs.  They  lie  at  every  turn  in  mosque  and 
market,  in  door  and  out,  in  the  path  of  man  and  beast,  and  only 
answer  to  the  tapping  boot,  trampling  donkey,  or  nudging  cane, 
by  a  squeak  or  growl.  They  are  incorrigible,  never  moving  for 
man  or  beast.  They  belong  to  no  one  ;  but  each  has  hispartic- 
ular  home-quarter,  where  he  lives — a  pauper  on  the  public  who 
hold  him  sacred. 


240  A  LADY'S    VERDICT  UPON  THE  ORIENT. 

But  I  think  we  have  almost  exhausted  the  city.  As  we  pass 
out  of  the  Golden  Horn  into  the  Bosphorus,  we  make  our  Sa 
laam  to  the  Orient.  Farewell,  old  city  !  with  your  spires^and 
domes  glittering  in  the  setting  sun !  It  will  be  long  ere  we  see 
thee  again,  for  the  pathway  hither  is  over  troublous  seas,  troub 
lous  for  a  man  even,  how  much  more  troublous  for  one  of  the 
other  sex. 


XVIII. 


(Tnrkisjr  95nto[  ^nlitir  in  its  ^i 


"  Know  ye  the  land  where  the  cypress  and  myrtle, 
Are  emblems  of  deeds  that  are  done  in  their  clime  ?" 

**  Bride  of  Abydos. 

WOULD  that  I  had  the  magic  bow  of  the  Scythian  Abaris 
to  give  it  a  twang,  and  that  I  could  ride  on  the  arrow  with 
telegraphic  velocity  to  our  western  clime,  there  to  see  what 
chances  and  changes  have  occurred  since  we  left.  We  have  not 
heard  from  home  for  two  months.  I  suppose  that  Ohio  has  a 
new  constitution  adopted  by  this  time.  Constitutions  —  how 
different  they  are  here  from  those  in  the  States.  Even  Turkey 
has  a  constitution,  adopted  in  1840,  by  which  certain  rights  are 
guarantied  to  all  —  Armenian  and  Jew,  Christian  as  well  as  Turk. 
But  like  the  other  constitutions  of  Europe,  it  is  just  so  much 
parchment,  to  be  "  dispensed"  with  by  the  government,  just  when 
it  pleases.  The  popular  spirit  must  constitute  .the  last  anal 
ysis  of  the  State  —  the  elemental  organic  law.  In  the  fire  of  the 
popular  heart,  lies  the  warm  and  the  only  healthy  glow  of  the 
body  politic.  If  this  be  extinguished  or  smothered,  constitutions 
are  but  paper  nothings.  Now  the  constitution  of  Turkey  was 
a  voluntary  renunciation  of  absolute  power  by  the  Sultan,  for 
the  purpose  of  reform  and  the  happiness  of  all.  It  was  called 
the  Hatti  Sherif  of  Gulkenah,  or  imperial  charter.  It  was 
named  after  a  kiosk  called  Gulkenah,  the  Runnymede  of  the 
Turkish  Magna  Charta,  where,  in  presence  of  the  principal  Pashas 
and  the  diplomatic  corps,  Rescind  Pasha  read  the  constitution. 
It  was  drawn  up  by  Rescind,  who  is  the  Grand  Vizier.  It  miti 
gates  many  of  the  old  punishments  of  the  Turk,  and  thus  con- 
11 


242  THE  TURKISH  BODY  POLITIC 

forms  to  the  humane  spirit  of  the  Sultan,  who  has  never  been 
known  to  sanction  an  act  of  cruelty.  It  establishes  boards  and 
councils  in  the  capital  and  principal  towns,  whose  ordinances 
are.  however,  subject  to  the  supervision  of  the  Porte.  It  gives 
the  privilege  to  the  Armenian,  Jew,  and  Christian,  to  sue  and 
give  testimony,  and  receive  equal  justice  in  the  courts.  But  the 
Turkish  kadis  and  muftis  interpret  justice  and  receive  testi 
mony  just  as  they  did  before  the  constitution  ;  judging  all  things 
by  the  Koran,  and  regarding  all  but  Mussulmans  as  dogs  and 
Giaours.  The  constitution  is,  in  this  respect,  a  complete  dead 
letter.  The  blackest  Nubian  slave  who  believes  in  Mahomet 
can  give  testimony,  but  the  most  respectable  Christian  is  not 
heard.  The  Ulemats  of  the  law  are  permitted  to  plead  and  in 
terpret  the  law  as  they  please,  which  they  do  on  paper,  not  orally  5 
subject  to  the  old  contingency  of  being  pounded  to  death  in  a 
mortar  if  they  displease  the  government. 

The  Salique  law  is  in  full  force  in  Turkey.  Neither  sons 
nor  daughters  under  a  certain  age  are  raised  to  the  throne,  nor 
can  a  daughter  transmit  to  a  male  offspring  any  claims  to  the 
succession.  The  brothers  of  the  Sultan  first  succeed  according 
to  their  age.  The  only  brother  of  the  present  Sultan  is  kept 
close  in  the  palace,  and  is  seldom  permitted  to  be  seen.  One  of 
the  tombs  we  saw  was  that  of  a  Sultan.  His  brothers,  murdered 
by  him,  to  the  number  of  nineteen,  slumbered  around  him. — The 
object  of  their  death  was  to  avoid  the  law.  so  as  to  transmit  the 
crown  lineally  to  the  Sultan's  son.  When  the  brothers  fail,  the 
son  succeeds  ;  hence  the  anxiety  of  Sultans  about  their  brothers. 
The  present  Sultan,  Abd-ul-Mejid  has  a  son  about  ten  years  of 
age,  of  whom  he  is  very  fond,  and  to  whom  he  is  giving  a  fine 
education.  He  will  succeed  to  the  throne  if  the  brother  should 
happen  to  die. 

The  wives  of  the  Sultan  at  present  number  thirteen.  This 
does  not  include  the  harem,  but  only  the  Kadines,  who  alone 
have  the  privilege  of  producing  an  heir  to  the  throne.  They  are 
chosen  from  the  Odalisques,  or  females  of  the  imperial  harem. 


7/V  ITS  PICTURESQUE  DRESS.  243 

There  is  no  marriage  ceremony  performed,  and  the  Sultan  may 
divorce  the  marriage  when  he  pleases.  When  the  Sultan  dies, 
the  Kadines  go  into  solitary  retirement,  still  supported  by  the 
State.  They  never  marry.  The  mother  of  the  Sultan  is  more 
fortunate ;  she  lives  in  a  splendid  palace,  and  is  treated  like  the 
Queen  Dowager  of  England.  We  saw  the  palace  of  the  mother 
of  the  present  Sultan  at  the  head  of  the  harbor — a  splendid  pile  ! 
She  derives  a  large  revenue  from  some  of  the  isles  of  the  empire. 

The  inheritance  of  property  is  regulated  by  laws  dissimilar 
from  that  which  regulates  the  succession  to  the  throne.  There 
are  two  kinds  of  property — -free  and  mortgage.  The  first  is 
transmitted  to  the  children,  male  and  female,  share  and  share 
alike.  The  mortgage  property  becomes  absolute  in  the  mosque 
(to  which  alone  mortgage  is  permitted)  upon  the  death  of  the 
mortgagor.  If  a  person  wishes  to  borrow  five  thousand  piastres, 
he  goes  to  his  mosque,  and  during  life  pays  a  small  interest  of 
about  one-half  per  cent.  ;  the  condition  of  defeasance  being,  that 
the  property,  which  must  be  worth  double  the  amount  loaned, 
shall  become  absolute  in  the  mosque  on  the  death  of  the  bor 
rower.  The  mosques  do  not  accumulate,  but  immediately  sell 
and  reloan.  In  the  time  of  the  plague,  the  mosques  make  money 
in  round  numbers.  This  financial  ecclesiastical  feature  will  ac 
count  for  the  number  and  the  influence  of  the  mosques  in  Con 
stantinople.  No  wonder  so  many  minarets  glitter  in  the  sun, 
and  so  many  domes  swell  under  the  cloudless  sky  of  the  east, 
amidst  the  mean,  dirty,  wooden  houses  that  line  the  filthy  streets. 
No  wonder  the  city  gleams  so  grandly  in  the  distance,  and  re 
poses  so  tranquilly  beauteous,  far  off  I 

The  influence  of  the  Moslem  priests  is  paramount  to  all  law. 
There  is  no  connection  between  the  Church  and  State,  for  they 
are  one.  The  religion  of  the  people  is  the  State.  The  Koran 
is  the  real  Constitution.  Every  rule  of  private  and  public  con 
duct  is  drawn  from  its  page.  Greater  devotion  to  a  religion  could 
not  be  had.  Prayer  with  the  Turks  is  universal ;  and  they  do 
not  seek  the  intervention  of  priests  to  commune  with  Allah.  It 


244  THE  TURKISH  BODY  POLITIC 

is  as  common  at  night  as  in  the  day,  at  the  feast  as  in  Ramazan, 
in  the  field  as  in  the  chamber,  in  the  mosque  as  in  the  cemetery. 
Last  eve,  at  the  fifth  hour,  the  Moslems  upon  the  steamer  which 
is  now  bearing  us  westward,  all  bowed  to  the  East,  and  simul 
taneously  repeated  their  prayers,  and  performed  their  motions. 
At  nightfall,  the  audible  song  went  up  from  the  deck,  where 
cross-legged  they  sat ;  after  which  they  enjoyed  the  pipe  and 
their  food,  after  the  total  abstinence  of  the  day.  The  season  of 
Ramazan  is  kept  alike  at  every  place. 

We  have  two  Pashas  aboard,  with  whom  I  have  been  con 
versing  in  my  usual  manner  by  signs  and  a  dictionary.  Pleas 
ant,  dignified,  and  communicative,  dressed  in  their  ermine  cloaks 
and  red  caps,  and  perfect  gentlemen  in  all  respects,  except 
Christianity,  they  assume  no  airs,  even  over  their  own  servants. 
Their  salutation  is  tenderly  symbolic  of  good  will.  They  kiss 
the  hand,  touch  the  heart  and  forehead,  and  make  a  slight  obeis 
ance.  They  seem  thus  to  unite  the  respect  of  the  mind  with 
the  warmth  of  their  hearts.  They  have  the  reputation  of  being 
honest,  hospitable  and  truthful ;  and  that  is  more  than  is  said  of 
the  Greek  and  Armenian  Christians,  who  live  among  them,  and 
who  excuse  these  characteristics  by  saying,  "  Oh  !  thoir  religion 
commands  these  things."  Beautiful  Christians !  The  Turks 
drink  no  spirituous  liquor,  which  accounts  for  their  moral  and 
physical  health,  as  well  as  for  the  scarcity  of  beggars,  and  the 
absence  of  cripples.  Opium  is  not  used  generally.  Tobacco  is 
as  common  as  the  turban  or  fez  cap.  A  Turk  without  his  chi 
bouque,  would  be  like  a  man  without  a  nose.  It  is  a  part  of 
himself,  not  to  be  severed.  He  gives  it  prominence  above  every 
thing,  except  the  Koran — above  the  feast,  the  bath,  and  the  tur 
ban. 

I  think  that  the  slavery  of  Turkey  is  not  properly  understood 
in  America.  I  have  taken  some  pains  to  learn  about  these  so 
cial  customs,  and  must  acknowledge  my  obligation  to  our  vice- 
consul,  Mr.  Daniese.  who  has  furnished  me  with  the  information. 
The  slave  markets  of  Constantinople  have  drawn  forth  a  great 


IN  ITS  PICTURESQUE  DRESS.  245 

deal  of  sympathy,  from  the  ladies  especially.  The  idea  of  white 
women,  almost  naked,  being  sold  in  the  public  markets,  has  ex 
cited  much  horror.  This  is  all  superfluous.  To  be  sure,  slavery 
is  bad  enough  in  its  best  form.  But  the  slave  of  the  Turk  is 
not  the  slave  of  the  planter,  by  a  good  deal.  Here,  it  signifies 
a  person  purchased  to  be  the  adopted  son  or  daughter  of  the 
owner.  The  market  for  white  slaves  is  alone  open  to  Turks, 
who  purchase  two  classes  of  persons  ;  one  for  wives,  the  other  for 
servants.  The  former  are  sent  by  the  best  families  of  Georgia 
and  Circassia  to  the  Commissioner,  who  takes  .  are  that  no  insult 
of  the  slightest  nature  is  offered.  They  are  glad  to  go.  All  is 
voluntary.  The  females  have  the  absolute  right  to  refuse  to  be 
sold  to  any  one  whom  they  dislike.  Ladies  in  America  some 
times  do  not  have  as  much  accorded  to  them.  Once  bought, 
they  become  the  wife  of  the  Mussulman,  just  as  fully  as  Miss 
Jones  united  to  Mr.  Smith,  by  Esq.  Johnson,  becomes  Mrs. 
Smith.  The  law  fixes  their  dowry ;  and  if  their  husbands  mis 
use  them,  it  gives  them  redress  in  alimony  and  divorce.  The 
alimony  allowed  is  their  whole  dowry.  The  property  in  the 
servant-slaves  inheres  to  the  wife,  and  not  to  the  husband.  He 
is  bound  to  protect  them  through  life,  and  provide  for  their 
maintenance.  But  when  there  are  several  wives — what  then  ? 
I  imagine  that  there  are  very  few  who  have  more  than  one  wife. 
Our  acquaintance,  the  good  Bey,  only  had  one,  as  he  said  ;  per 
haps  he  meant  only  one  to  whom  he  gave  his  heart.  When  the 
wives  are  many,  the  same  rule  as  to  dower  and  maintenance  ob 
tains.  There  is  one  redeeming  feature  in  Turkish  slavery,  and 
that  is.  that  the  mother  becomes  free  on  the  birth  of  a  child, 
who  is  also  free.  There  is  no  hereditary  slavery. 

The  male  slaves  have  every  chance  to  rise  in  the  world,  be 
cause  they  rise  with  their  masters.  Merit  and  mind  rise  above 
the  institution.  The  son-in-law  of  the  late  Sultan.  Halil  Pasha, 
was  once  the  slave  of  Khrosref  Pasha,  himself  once  a  Georgian 
slave.  The  mother  of  the  present  Sultan — a  fine  portly  lady, 
living  in  luxury  in  her  palace,  was  once  a  Circassian  slave,  sold 


246  THE  TURKISH  BODY  POLITIC 

for  a  price  to  Mahmoud  II.,  the  father  of  the  present  Emperor 
and  is  now  the  honored  source  of  much  of  the  power  of  the  Sub 
lime  Porte.  It  is  the  religion  which  softens  the  harshness  of 
the  institution,  and  makes  it  a  shadow.  A  day  in  Constantinople 
will  convince  the  most  unobserving  that  the  Moslem  faith  recog 
nizes  no  invidious  distinction  between  the  faithful.  Indeed,  the 
finest-looking  man  I  saw  was  a  dark  but  lofty-browed  man,  who. 
perhaps,  was  once  a  slave,  but  is  now  a  chief  prophet  or  priest 
of  all  Mahometanism.  He  presides  at  Mecca.  I  saw  him  un 
der  these  circumstances.  After  leaving  the  gorgeous  and  splen 
did  tomb  of  Mahmoud,  the  last  Sultan,  and  while  wondering  at 
the  perpetual  freshness  of  grief  which  seemed  to  hover  about  the 
dead,  caused  by  the  rich  shawls  and  mother-of-pearl  work,  as 
well  as  by  the  beautiful  mosque  around  and  over  the  tomb,  and 
while  admiring  that  appropriate  symbol  of  the  great  wax  candles, 
covered  by  the  extinguisher,  at  the  head  of  the  tomb,  we  were 
disturbed  and  startled  by  the  cries  and  bustle  of  the  street.  The 
soldiers  were  drawn  up — the  band  played — the  citizens  rushed 
to  see,  and  the  word  was — "  The  Sultan,  lol  he  cometh  over  the 
Golden  Horn!" 

We  waited  in  the  shadow  of  a  shop,  and  soon  the  officers  and 
Pashas  rode  along  on  their  fine  steeds,  which  were  led  by  slaves 
on  foot ;  next  came  an  awe-inspiring  man,  dressed  in  a  long 
sweeping  green  robe  exquisitely  wrought,  and  upon  his  broad 
and  high  brow  he  wore  the  finest  turban  of  white,  embound  in 
red.  He  looked  grave  in  his  long  and  solemn  face.  He  seemed 
a  man  of  sorrow,  and  his  face  was  thin  and  indented  with  grief. 
A  great  calm,  dark  eye  looked  out  from  beneath  his  heavy  intel 
lectual  forehead.  If  Mahomet  resembled  this,  his  successor,  I 
j  would  no  longer  wonder  at  the  spell  of  Islamism  by  which  he 
'thralled  the  East.  You  forget  his  gorgeous  apparel  and  his 
dark  countenance,  in  the  great  mind  which  speaks  from  the 
face.  He  sits  upon  his  fine  Arab  horse,  a  picture  to  "  witch 
the  world,"  not  as  Hotspur  did  "  in  wondrous  horsemanship." 
but  by  the  priestly  sanctity  and  intellectual  composure  of  his 


IN  ITS  PICTURESQUE  DRESS.  247 

appearance.  If  Carlyle  could  see  him.  he  would  perform  a 
genuflexion  of  hero-worship  in  his  praise,  as  he  has  already  in 
praise  of  his  predecessor. 

His  mien  and  grace  forcibly  remind  me  of  that  wonderful 
race,  who  combining  in  their  characters,  as  in  their  language, 
the  Tartar,  Persian  and  Arabic  elements,  ruled  the  deserts, 
spread  over  the  East,  conquered  the  isles  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  under  the  dominion  of  Sultan  and  Caliph,  began  new  dynas 
ties  in  the  world.  Religious  fervor  and  strong  arms, — what  is 
able  to  resist  their  power  ?  what ; — save  the  stronger  arm  of 
God? 

Following  him,  was  a  riderless  barb,  dressed  in  cloth  of  gold. 
No  Sultan  to-day.  The  crowds  laugh  at  the  disappointment, 
but  I  was  well  satisfied  with  seeing  the  prophet  of  Mecca.  His 
portrait  is  daguerreotyped  in  my  mind. 

The  Armenians  form  an  important  part  of  the  population  in 
Turkey.  Forty  thousand  alone  are  to  be  found  in  Smyrna,  and 
eighty  thousand  in  Constantinople.  They  have  become,  by  dint 
of  enterprise  and  shrewdness,  the  brokers  and  bankers  of  the 
realm.  They  are  the  second  estate.  The  Custom  House  and 
the  taxes  have  been  sold  to  them  by  the  government  for  a  num 
ber  of  years.  The  former  was  sold  for  fifty  thousand  pounds 
sterling.  This  is  a  novel  way  of  raising  funds.  What  is  com 
mendable  about  the  matter  is,  that  no  extortion  is  resorted  to. 
We  found  no  unpleasant  searching  at  the  custom  house. 

These  Armenians — where  came  they  from  ?  what  are  they  ? 
I  was  led  to  make  the  same  inquiry ;  for  in  passing  through  the 
bazaars,  my  curiosity  was  excited  by  the  singular  black-eyed 
race  who  sat  upon  the  couches  and  mats,  ministering  so  dexter 
ously  to  the  buyers,  pictures  of  lazy  activity  and  patient  enter 
prise  !  They  excel  the  Jews  in  trading ;  and  in  singularity  of 
custom  and  adhesiveness  to  their  religion  they  resemble  them. 
They  are  more  easily  distinguished  from  their  turbaned  neigh 
bors  than  from  the  Jews.  Perhaps  they  are  one  of  the  lost 
tribes. 


248  THE  TURKISH  BODY  POLITIC 

The  country  of  Armenia  was  situated  in  Asia,  south  of 
Georgia,  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  garden  of  Eden.  In 
the  seventeenth  century,  it  was  laid  waste  by  Shah  Abbas,  and 
its  people  distributed  over  the  Turkish  Empire  and  its  adjacent 
countries,  to  the  number  of  two  millions.  Many  of  them  are  in 
Hungary  and  Poland.  Their  religion  is  a  sort  of  Christianity, 
with  smoke  enough  about  its  altar  to  determine  that  some  of  the 
true  fire  is  present.  Eutychuswas  the  founder  of  their  peculiar 
•creed,  which  was  condemned  as  heresy  in  the  fifth  century. 
Their  creed  is  not  unlike  that  of  the  Greek  church,  but  like  near 
relations  when  they  do  differ,  they  hate  each  other  cordially. 
Fifteen  thousand  acknowledge  the  Pope  of  Rome.  The  others 
are  under  the  spiritual  supervision  of  three  patriarchs  in  Asia. 
Their  monasteries,  fasts,  and  superstitions  resemble  the  Greek 
more  than  the  Roman  church.  Their  language  is  as  hard  to 
understand  as  the  mysteries  of  the  Cabala  or  the  Rosicrucians. 
Few  of  themselves  understand  or  speak  it.  They  have  a  kind 
of  Knacker,  made  up  of  French  and  Italian,  which  they  use. 
You  may  perceive  their  cemetery,  by  the  absence  of  the  cypress, 
which  is  allowed  to  none  but  Moslems.  Their  tree  is  the  tere 
binth  or  turpentine  tree.  Their  idea  of  the  future  state  of  the 
soul  is  peculiar.  They  hold  that  it  passes  to  a  place  of  conscious 
ness,  where  it  is,  however,  quiescent,  joyless  and  painless. 
Prayers  are  offered  to  deliver  it  from  this  purgatory  of  indiffer 
ence.  They  would  not  have  this  deathless  soul  impaired  in  its 
immortal  nature,  but  restored  to  its  full  and  active  energy. 

How  orderly  those  Mussulmans  on  deck  perform  their  devo 
tions.  The  cry  of  the  leader  just  called  me  away  to  see  the 
ceremony.  While  he  sang,  the  others  were  discussing,  as  I 
judged  by  their  gestures  and  laughing,  the  intricate  question, 
"what  direction  is  Mecca."  Their  shoes  are  all  off.  Their 
beards  are  washed.  Their  sleeves  are  rolled  up.  The  leader 
has  a  white  handkerchief  over  his  head.  The  others  all  have  on 
the  red  fez  cap.  They  commence  mumbling.  The  leader  says 
something — they  bend ;  something  else — they  bend  lower  with 


IN  ITS  PICTURESQE  DRESS.  249 

hands  up,  something  still — their  heads  touch  the  deck.  This 
process  was  repeated  with  closed  eyes  and  devout  faces,  three 
times  towards  Mecca ;  when  they  performed  "  eyes  right"  and 
"  eyes  left,"  like  a  company  of  infantry  in  three  sections,  then 
arose,  shook  their  mats,  lit  their  pipes,  and  put  on  their  shoes. 
A  very  simple  and  striking  devotion. 

I  would  like  to  have  seen  it  upon  a  grander  scale  in  Saint 
Sophia's  mosque.  I  wrote  of  our  abortive  attempt  to  see  the 
mosques,  when  a  Nubian  slave  with  his  rattan  drove  our  com 
pany  away,  although  we  had  in  it  two  English  captains,  one 
French  navy  captain,  a  French  diplomatist,  a  German  noble,  an 
oaf  of  a  Jew.  and  four  Americans  !  We  could  not  give  it  up  ; 
so,  procuring  our  firman,  we  took  an  earlier  start — while  the 
Moslems,  under  the  effects  of  the  night's  revel  after  Ramazan 
fast,  should  be  asleep. — Our  firman  cautiously  brought  us 
around  to  an  entrance  less  public.  A  cross-eyed  Turk  in  priestly 
stole  and  endless  turban  opened  the  door.  We  put  on  our  slip 
pers,  and  winding  up  and  around  a  long,  dark  gallery,  found 
ourselves  in  the  lofty  hall  of  the  great  Mahomet.  In  every 
thing  else  but  its  size,  we  were  disappointed,  and  with  St. 
Peter's  in  our  mind,  even  that  lost  its  potency.  The  lofty  col 
umns  of  every  species  of  granite,  marble  and  porphyry,  support 
a  large  gallery  ;  while  the  dome  is  in  the  form  of  an  ellipse. 
The  circular  dome  is  within  this,  and  swells  fearfully  high  and 
sublime.  But  where  is  the  rich  mosaic  fresco  of  Genoa  and 
Rome  ?  Where  are  the  forms  of  marble  majesty  and  the  breath 
ing  beauty  of  the  canvass?  Where  is  the  soul  of  art  and  the 
genius  of  Italy  ?  The  eye  swims  restlessly  about  in  unpeopled 
ether,  with  no  graceful  angel  or  bearded  saint  to  buoy  it  upward 
into  the  celestial  realm.  Four  large,  bird  looking,  black  colored, 
six  winged,  headless  mosaic  nondescripts,  said  to  be  angels, 
bespread  their  pinions  at  either  corner  of  the  dome. 

It  is  said  that  the  Persians  seldom  paint  forms,  fearful  lest 
they  will  be  required  in  the  day  of  judgment  to  find  souls  for 
their  creations,  which  it  is  very  difficult  to  do.  The  artist  will, 
11* 


250  THE  TURKISH  BODY  POLITIC 

on  this  principle,  be  condemned  eternally  for  these  creations 
These  outre  representations  are  intended  for  seraphim,  who 
were  companions  of  Mahomet — Gabriel,  Michael,  Raphael,  and 
Israel.  Near  them  are  four  large  circular  green  signs,  with 
Turkish  calligraphy  in  golden  letters,  nearly  as  long  as  the 
name  of  the  writer  who  has  there  displayed  his  genius.  The 
name  is  Bitchiakdschisade  Mustafa  Techelebi  !  Phoebus,  what 
a  sounding  for  your  trump  !  Nothing  else  strikes  the  beholder 
as  very  peculiar,  unless  it  be  a  few  fountains — a  fine  floor  cover 
ed  with  ordinary  matting ;  an  altar  turned  towards  Mecca  5  two 
flags  from  the  pulpit,  representing  the  triumph  of  Moslemism 
over  Judaism  and  Christianity  ;  some  priests  going  about  at 
tending  to  the  lamps,  which  are  hung  all  around  from  strings 
alternating  with  ostrich  eggs,  flowers  and  tinsel,  and  which,  when 
lighted,  glimmer  like  cressets,  and  reflect  bearded  and  tailed 
lights  like  comets.  The  lamps  are  curved-shaped  ;  and  when 
lit,  as  they  are  every  night  during  this  Ramazan  season,  seem 
like  little  fairy  shallops  floating  in  a  sea  of  lustre,  and  among 
miniature  starry  islands.  There  is  not  so  much  gorgeousness 
as  one  would  expect,  after  seeing  what  the  Turk  can  display  in 
the  seraglio  and  palace.  The  shape  of  this  temple  is  the  Greek 
cross,  and  its  dimensions  are  200  feet  by  275.  The  centre  of 
the  dome  is  180  feet  above  the  ground.  Its  vicissitudes  have 
been  remarkable,  and  its  once  glorious  but  now  tarnished  splen 
dors  lend  a  charm  to  it  which  apparently  it  has  not.  It  is  1,500 
years  old — was  dedicated  to  the  divine  wisdom,  in  the  time  of 
Constantine.  It  has  been  burned  several  times  and  rebuilt. 
Baalbec  with  its  pillars  of  the  temple  of  the  Sun,  Ephesus  with 
its  green  columns  of  the  temple  of  Diana,  the  temple  of  Pallas 
at  Athens,  of  the  Moon  at  Heliopolis,  of  Apollo  at  Delos,  of 
Cybele  at  Cyzicus,  of  Isis  and  Osiris  from  Egypt,  as  well  as  the 
green,  blue,  black,  white  and  parti-colored  marbles  of  the  world,  are 
here  represented  in  the  107  columns  which  support  this  splendid 
structure  !  This  would  amply  repay  us  for  the  visit,  were  there 
no  other  points  of  interest.  Tradition  and  history  represent  Saint 


IN  ITS  PICTURESQUE  DRESS.  251 

Sophia  as  having  had  angels  for  architects,  and  as  the  most  re 
markable  temple  of  ancient  Christendom.  In  it  Chrysostoin 
spoke  with  his  lips  of  gold.  Up  to  the  time  when  Mahomet 
with  his  Osmans  rode  victoriously  into  the  city,  and  even  into 
this  temple,  and  dismounting,  leaped  upon  the  altar  exclaiming, 
There  is  no  GOD  but  GOD,  and  MAHOMET  is  his  prophet  /" — up 
to  the  time  when  Sophia  held  her  bloody  carnival  in  these  great 
walls,  and  while  learning  had  here  her  chosen  throne,  this  tem 
ple  shone  resplendent  in  Mosaic  and  gold,  purple  and  marbles, 
with  its  silver  doves  and  carved  images,  as  the  Church  of  the  East 
and  the  glory  of  Christendom.  It  was  only  the  other  day  when 
repairing  some  of  the  walls,  that  rich  mosaics  superior  to  any 
at  Rome,  were  discovered  beneath  the  plaster,  representing 
saints  and  martyrs.  The  sultan  ordered  them  (sensible  soul !) 
to  be  covered  again,  not  knowing  but  that  they  might  come  in 
play  in  some  future  age.  It  is  a  current  belief  among  the 
Turks,  that  their  authority  will  end  in  a  century  ;  and  being 
Fatalists,  it  might  prove  a  true  prophecy  ;  although,  my  firm 
belief  is,  that  the  Ottoman  power  is  stronger  now  than  it  has 
been  for  half  a  century.  The  Mahometans  have  two  or  three 
miraculous  objects  in  the  church.  One  is  a  shining  stone, 
said  to  be  an  onyx,  which  absorbs  light,  and  when  shone  upon 
shines  with  intense  glitter.  Another  is  a  sweating  column,  that 
emits  a  dampness,  which  is  a  panacea  superior  to  Brandreth  or 
the  Life  Bitters. 

But  most,  Sophia  will  be  remembered  as  the  first  home  of 
the  Christian  :  for  the  poet  has  truly  sung  that  in 

"  Sophia's  far-famed  dome, 
There  first  the  faith  in  triumph  was  led  home, 
Like  some  high  bride,  with  banner  and  bright  sign, 
And  melody  and  flowers." 

We  saw  places  where  the  cross  had  been  removed,  and  where 
images  had  been  defaced.    The  crescent  shone  superior,  however; 


252  THE  TURKISH  BODY  POLITIC 

and  from  what  we  have  observed  in  Constantinople  generally, 
there  is  no  present  prospect  of  a  wane  of  this  symbol.  The 
Sultan  is  building  new  palaces,  the  priests  have  their  old  powers, 
the  Faith  seems  as  firm,  and  the  heart  of  the  city  throbs  as 
warmly  as  ever.  If  these  be  indices  of  all  Islamism,  the  Cross 
is  not  making  much  headway  toward  that  Millennial  point  which 
we  are  assured  it  must  attain  even  in  these  strong  holds  of  the 
prophet. 

The  population  of  Constantinople  is  over  GOO.OOO  souls;  and 
how  many  are  in  the  surrounding  cities  I  do  not  know.  It  is 
curious  to  see  the  unusual  phases  this  population  presents,  not  the 
least  curious  among  which  is  that  of  a  class  called  scribes,  who 
sit  cross-legged  at  their  stands,  and  write  letters  and  petitions 
for  the  people.  The  time  is  reckoned  as  at  Rome,  from  sun 
down.  The  graveyards  are  the  public  promenades,  where  joy 
meets  joy  in  gratulation.  The  muffled  faces  of  the  women,  the 
odd  costume  of  the  men,  the  sacredness  of  the  public  dogs,  the 
howling  and  dancing  of  the  dervishes — a  singular  piece  of  inad- 
capery — the  easy  air,  grace,  dignity  and  gorgeous  apparel  of  the 
Pashas  and  Beys  contrasted  with  the  heavy-loaded,  half  bent  and 
head-shaved  carriers,  are  to  be  met  with  at  every  corner.  But 
above  all,  is  the  unutterably  grand  panorama  of  the  cities  which 
form  the  margin  of  the  Bosphorus,  inclosed  in  walls  which 
gleam  as  they  wind  over  the  distant  hills — belted  in  from  the 
waves  of  Marmora  by  a  deep  blue  band,  and  the  harbor  inter 
spersed  with  the  heavy  steamers  and  men-of-war,  and  light 
canoes  by  the  thousand — and  all  this  flooded  by  a  sunlight,  in 
which  the  orange  and  the  acanthus  bloom  as  no  exotics,  and  the 
cypress  points  upward  in  rivalry  of  the  gilded  minarets  and 
gleaming  crescents,  and  where  the  transparent  water  repeats  the 
enchanting  scene,  and  waving,  breaks  it  into  myriad  forms  of 
glancing  splendor.  We  left  these  scenes  at  sunset,  and  as  we 
moved  out  of  the  harbor  amidst  schools  of  sportive  porpoises  and 
flocks  of  gulls  (called  condemned  souls),  soon  bade  the  lovely 
scenes  at  distance  farewell.  "  The  sun  of  life  will  set"  ere  we 


m  ITS  PICTURESQUE  DRESS.  253 

forget  thy  luxurious  people  and  gorgeous  palaces,  oh,  Byzan 
tium  !  Already  to  the  memory  thou  risest  like  a  vision  of  the 
night  or  a  reverie  of  the  evening,  which  painter  never  illus 
trated,  and  which  Poetry  alone  has  inwoven  in 

"  Dreams  of  many-colored  light> 
Of  golden  towers  and  phantoms  fair." 


XIX. 

(Owntal  jCrarti  imfo  Cimit 


"  Slow  sinks  more  lovely  ere  his  race  be  run, 
Along  Morea's  hills,  the  setting  sun, 
Not  as  in  Northern  climes,  obscurely  bright, 
But  one  unclouded  blaze  of  living  light" 

.  Byron. 

AFTER  leaving  the  Dardanelles,  we  stopped  again  at  Smyrna, 
where  I  took  a  Turkish  bath,  the  seventh  heaven  of  Orien 
talism.  It  is  grateful  enough  for  the  traveller  whose  lungs  have 
been  shivered  almost  by  the  northern  airs,  or  smothered  by  office 
confinement,  just  to  breathe  this  delicious  atmosphere  under 
this  rainless  and  cloudless  sky.  It  is  holy  repose  to  the  mind, 
vexed  at  home  with  business  and  pestered  with  care,  only  to 
look  out  through  the  calm  eye  upon  these  seas  of  beauteous 
blue  (so  blue  that  there  is  no  expression  for  it),  sleeping  so  calm 
ly  and  tranquilly  under  a  canopy  of  purple  lustre,  to  watch  the 
gloaming  rise  and  die  away  along  these  coasts  of  Morea,  and  to 
recall  in  "  clear  dream  and  solemn  vision,"  the  mighty  intellects 
who  of  old  peopled  these  shores  of  Greece.  Oh  !  it  was  deli 
cious  to  float  amidst  the  isles,  upon  this  morning,  around  the 
promontory  of  Sunium,  past  the  temple  of  Pallas  upon  its  rocky 
crest,  or  amid  the  waves  which  wash  Navarino  ;  and  which  at  a 
later  day  than  that  upon  which  they  kissed  the  victorious  prows 
of  Themistocles  at  Salamis,  bore  the  united  fleets  of  Russia, 
England,  and  France,  in  array  against  the  fleets  of  the  Bospho- 
rus  and  of  Alexandria,  and  when  in  signal  defeat  the  Turk  was 
compelled  to  yield  to  Greece  her  dear-bought  freedom.  In  fine. 
there  is  a  delight  which  only  belongs  to  dream-land  and  the  Le 
vant  which  we  have  experienced  throughout  these  waters,  where 


ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES.  255 

Beauty  loves  to  linger,  and  where  crusading  heroism  roamed 
wliilome  ;  but  after  all,  the  apex  of  sensuous  delight  ,  the  ulti 
mate  gratification  of  all  the  senses  at  once,  lies  in  a  Turkish 
bath.  It  laps  the  world  of  sense  in  a  new  Elysium. 

The  process  consists  simply  of  bath-rooms  of  heated  air,  in 
which,  after  becoming  an  embodied  ooziness  through  perspiration, 
your  attendant  gently  washes  you  in  warm  water,  rubbing  through 
many  courses,  including  soaping  and  hair-glove  processes  ( as 
many  as  a  French  table  d'hote),  all  the  old  Adam  of  clay  out  of 
you,  leaving  the  original  porcelain  ;  when  swathed  in  warm  linen? 
turbaned  and  chibouqued,  you  are  put  away  amidst  pillowey  otto 
mans  to  "  sleep — perchance  to  dream  ;"  and  in  that  dream  to  be 
transported,  in  wavy  motion,  to  new  climes  of  softer  skies  and 
lovelier  tintings,  of  mellower  music  and  balmier  fragrance.  But 
— I  wish  I  had  leisure  to  tell  you  my  dream  as  I  sat  all  envelop 
ed  amidst  a  company  of  easy  Greeks  and  luxurious  Turks,  in 
the  baths  of  Smyrna.  Two  hours  long  it  lasted.  An  Ameri 
can  never  experiences  at  home  such  an  indijferentism  to  all  sub 
lunary  things.  He  never  loses  his  earnest  consciousness  of  what 
he  is — where  he  is — what  he  is  born  for.  But  this  is  a  pecu 
liarity  of  Orientalism.  Such  an  abominable  waste  of  time  would 
never  do  in  America.  One's  clients  would  go  off  in  a  huffy,  and 
business  would  disappear  completely.  But  one  should  not  come 
to  Turkey,  unless  he  does  as  the  Turks  do,  in  some  respects. 

I  never  knew  what  it  meant  to  "  eat  like  a  Turk,"  before  I 
saw  these  Islam  people  in  Ramazan  time,  when  after  fasting  all 
day,  at  the  sound  of  the  sundown  gun,  they  turn  in  with  pipe 
and  knife,  and  eat  and  smoke  "  till  daylight  does  appear,"  when 
the  gun  calls  a  halt.  If  we  Christians  were  one-tenth  as  ob 
servant  of  our  religion  as  these  benighted  Mussulmans,  one  could 
reasonably  speak  of  the  Millennium.  Mahometanism  is  an  un 
ceasing  prayer.  The  very  atmosphere  of  the  East  seems  fitted 
for  this  most  holy,  solemn,  and  devout  exercise.  If  Moslemism 
be  untrue  (and  why  should  I  write  it  conditionally)  ?  what  a 


256  ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES. 

condemnation  awaits  this  Eastern  world ;  not  for  its  sins,  but 
for  its  devotion  ! 

But  I  have  bid  farewell  to  the  Turks.  The  last  one  left  us" 
at  Smyrna.  Our  deck  jabbers  with  Greeks  yet ;  who  talk  con 
tinually,  ever  moving  their  beads,  rapidly  or  slowly  according 
to  the  ardor  of  their  heart  and  the  interest  of  their  theine.  The 
presence  of  a  Franciscan  so  frequently  seen  in  Italy  betokens  our 
westward  course.  The  Austrian  steamer,  the  best  boat  we  have 
yet  had,  dashes  on  as  I  write.  Already  she  has  passed  the  gulf 
of  Navarino  ;  and  Zante  just  begins  to  look  like  a  thin  gauzy 
web  in  the  distance.  We  shall  run  between  that  isle  and  the 
main  land,  when  look  out  for  Mount  Olympus !  By  Jove  !  I 
will  be  on  deck  then,  and  if  this  visual  orb  cannot  discern  the 
gods  upon  its  snowy  top,  I  will  resurrect  the  shade  of  Old  Ho 
mer,  and  people  imagination  with  the  "  powers  imperial." 

And  now  (enrapturing  thought !)  we  sail  the  same  watery 
way  he  sailed.  His  gods  drank  nectar  upon  that  cloudy  height. 
His  Ulysses  sought  his  home  along  these  very  shores,  and  we 
shall  harbor  in  the  same  inlets  which  his  crafty  sagacity  select 
ed.  Ithaca  will  meet  our  eye  to-day,  the  most  Homeric  spot 
existing  except  Troy,  and  Leucadia's  pale  cliffs  will  shine  to  the 
eye  as  ever  it  has  shone  in  classic  light. 

Our  English  captains  have  kindly  invited  us  to  break  our 
fast  ashore  with  them  in  their  barracks  to-morrow  at  Corfu, 
where  we  shall  regret  to  part  with  them.  Corfu  is  the  ancient 
Corcyra,  where  Athenian  greatness  met  a  signal  check.  All 
around  us  throngs,  without  system  or  order,  the  spirit  of  the 
past.  Botzarris  sleeps  where  he  fell  upon  the  mainland  near 
Missolonghi,  where,  too,  Byron  "  chose  his  ground  and  took  his 
rest,"  after  his  feverish,  unhappy,  yet  not  ungenerous  life. 
What  a  land  for  the  poet  to  die  in  ?  A  land  where  each  star 
in  the  lofty  vault  was  a  Deity,  where  each  mount  had  its  Oread, 
each  river  its  Naiad,  each  fountain  its  Nymph,  each  woody  copse 
its  Dryad,  and  every  scene  its  guardian  angel !  A  land  where 
no  superstitious  fear  prevailed,  such  as  the  dark  forests  of  the 


ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES.  957 

North  engendered ;  but  where  the  rapture  of  Hope  lit  up  the  soul, 
until  it  saw  in  the  trembling  of  the  orange-tree,  and  the  beauty 
<jf  its  bloom,  in  the  spray  of  the  cascade  and  the  prism  which 
arched  it,  a  living  presence  of  grace  ?  A  land,  where  harmony 
of  thought  and  energy  of  action  were  equally  illustrated,  in  the 
stirring  representations  of  the  drama,  gliding  from  the  masked 
actor  with  all  the  music  of  measured  rhythm  and  a  tuneful 
tongue  ;  equally  illustrated  by  the  faithful  eye  and  obedient 
hand  of  the  artist,  as  his  spirit  caught  a  precision  in  delineation, 
which  vanished  imperceptibly  into  proportion,  until  there  lived 
upon  the  rival  canvas  of  Protogenes  and  Apelles,  the  charm 
ing  creations  of  the  ideal.  A  land  where  science  and  truth, 
even,  yielded  to  the  spirit  of  beauty ;  where  stars  and  suns 
were  compelled  to  move  in  harmony  with  a  preconceived  theory, 
in  the  unbroken  circle,  and  not  in  the  unharmonious  ellipse  ; 
where  the  perfection  of  the  standard  would  not  allow  the  idea 
of  beauty  to  be  analyzed  ;  although  in  its  analysis  the  mind, 
like  Newton,  should  separate  its  beam,  clear,  white,  straight  and 
dazzling,  into  the  seven  hues  of  the  rainbow.  Was  it  not  a  land 
for  a  poet  to  die  in  ?  Was  it  not  a  land  wherein  Byron,  with 
his  irrepressible  poetic  sensibility,  should  breathe  his  last  wild 
note  for  the  liberty  of  his  adopted  country  ? 

We  passed  the  ancient  Arcadia  within  the  hour.  Although 
its  coast  has  not  so  much  of  the  beetling,  craggy  aspect  as  other 
parts  of  the  Morea,  yet  in  vain  I  looked  for  the  green  sward 
or  vista  of  leafage,  with  Pan  playing  his  lute  upon  the  gnarled 
roots  of  the  woodland.  No  pastoral  repose  softly  swelled  to 
the  rising  hill.  The  bleakness  and  harshness  of  the  shore, 
spoke  of  the  people  who  now  indolently  and  sinfully  draw  out 
an  ignoble  existence,  where  once  rural  life  joyed  in  her  favor 
ite  haunt. 

Yet  we  trust  Greece  has  flung  out  the  "  banner  with  the 
strange  device,  EXCELSIOR."  Twenty  years  ago,  Athens  had 
not  a  house.  Now  it  numbers  20,000  people.  Missions  and 
schools,  colleges  and  archaeological  societies,  are  exhuming  the 


258  ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES. 

ancient  spirit.  The  zeal  of  the  intelligent  Greeks  for  their  an 
cient  literature  is  intense.  In  their  schools  are  found  little 
bright  urchins,  bearing  the  names  of  Leonidas,  Aspasia,  De: 
mosthenes,  and  Miltiades. 

The  Morea  can  support  five  millions  of  people ;  yet  there  is 
not  900;000  within  its  borders,  and  among  these  not  a  farmer 
worth  $1000.  The  government  is  poor,  and  it  is  as  mean  as 
poor.  Greece  is  rich ;  how  rich  in  its  inheritance  of  greatness 
and  in  its  future  promise  !  It  lacks  the  moral  stamina  which 
alone  conserve  the  public  weal,  and  which  would  send  back  to 
Bavaria  the  contemptible  Otho  and  his  truckling  parasites, 
and  scorn  the  influence  of  Russia,  which  even  in  this  sunny 
clime  is  exercised  to  chill  popular  aspiration. 

Well,  we  have  arrived  at  Zante.  As  a  sample  of  the  Ionian 
isles,  it  is  worth  some  notice.  A  rocky  line,  perpendicular  and 
rough,  forms  the  coast.  A  little  art  has  been  expended  in 
making  the  harbor.  On  these  heights  are  white  houses  irregu 
larly  distributed,  which  form  a  town.  As  our  steamer  rounds  to, 
eager  and  crowded  boats  rush  out  of  their  coverts.  Their  steamers 
never  land.  They  drop  anchor,  and  the  exit  and  entry  are  per 
formed  by  little  boats  manned  by  jabbering  Greeks.  The  scene 
which  takes  place  at  the  gangway  when  these  boats  approach,  is 
indescribable.  Never  did  Hubbub  hold  a  more  Babel-revelry. 
The  Greeks  crawl  up  by  chains  and  ropes,  and  though  kicked  off, 
manage  to  fall  into  a  boat  and  again  mount  up.  The  water  swarms 
with  them  to-day.  An  unusual  number  of  Zanteotes,  say  150, 
are  going  up  to  Corfu  to  attend  a  festival.  These  fetes  number 
about  160  per  annum,  excluding  Sunday,  which  is  the  biggest 
jollification  of  all.  The  Roman  church  has  a  goodly  number  of 
sacred  days  ;  but  the  Greek  church  overtops  it.  Why  so  many  ? 
Where  can  they  find  time  ?  Bless  you  !  Do  you  inquire  after 
seeing  these  strutting  dandies  on  deck,  and  those  ladies  dressed 
out  and  shivering  with  vanity  like  a  pea-fowl  on  a  chimney-top? 
They  look  and  swell  as  if  they  were  severally  Presidents  and 
Queens  of  these  isles.  But  their  fortune  is  on  their  back.  Nice 


ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES.  259 

patent-leather  boots,  fur-lined  coats  and  jewelry,  adorn  the  men, 
and  embroidered  silk  and  satin,  with  enormous  flounces,  apparel 
the  women  ;  but  if  you  go  into  their  houses,  you  see  nothing — 
absolutely  nothing.  They  live  on  gayety  and  olives.  They  dance 
all  the  time  except  in  olive  season,  when  a  few  have  been  seen  to 
dig  the  ground. 

Now  as  I  write  we  leave  the  isle,  and  the  olive  trees,  ever 
green,  embowering  each  mound  and  hill-slope,  tell  of  the  only 
riches  (except  the  currant,  which  grows  spontaneously)  these 
idlers  possess.  The  Olive  requires  little  cultivation,  and  less 
soil.  It  grows  almost  upon  the  bare  rocks,  interweaving  its  roots 
like  ivy ;  the  trees  thus  supporting  each  other.  There  is  no 
water,  no  manure,  to  assist  them.  They  grow  on  the  principle 
that  Sam  Weller's  horse  went  on  ;  he  was  too  poor  to  pull,  but 
once  start  the  cart,  and  the  shafts  would  keep  him  up  and  going 
while  the  impulse  continued. 

The  Zanteotes,  I  said,  were  a  pattern  of  the  present  Greeks, 
not  alone  in  their  gayety,  but  in  their  mendacity  and  cunning. 
They  play  the  rascal  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  have  no  respect 
for  a  man  who  does  not.  They  live  on  little,  are  never  in  want, 
and  keep  their  fetes  more  to  gratify  their  love  of  ease  than  any 
religious  sentiment.  What  is  singular  too,  is,  that  they  have 
not  changed,  these  islanders,  since  Homer's  time.  The  Pagan 
has  given  way  to  the  Christian(  ?)  worship.  That  is  all.  Their 
moral  character  and  pursuits,  or  rather  lack  of  character  and 
pursuits,  are  the  same.  The  only  pursuit  they  follow  with  per 
severance  is  the  dance,  and  it  is  the  same  miserable  dance  which 
frolicked  under  the  olive  shade  when  Ulysses  came  back  and 
gave  the  natives  a  grand  fandango.  Their  music  is  an  old  reed 
or  pipe,  precisely  the  same  used  by  Pan,  and  a  kind  of  a  monot 
onous  "  turn  !  turn  !  turn  !"  made  on  a  goat-skin  spread  over  a 
wooden  bowl.  A  slow  drawling  dance  follows  a  slow  drawling 
piping  and  thrumming  ;  yet  more  than  balf  the  year  these  idlers 
thus  pass  the  time.  Well,  the  currant  will  grow  and  the  olive 
will  ripen,  and  the  Zanteotes  will  enjoy  life  merrily  behind  their 
cliifs  and  peaks. 


260  ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLE&. 

I  learn  from  one  of  our  English  captains  that  he  was  Com 
mandant  of  Ithaca,  whose  twin  peaks  lie  oft*  to  the  right,  just  as 
they  aid  when  Grecian  song  was  young  and  Penelope  watched 
(a  pattern  of  a  good  wife,  especially  in  her  knitting  !)  for  the 
coining  of  her  lord.  He  informs  me  that  there  are  many  monu 
ments  there,  Ulysses'  castle  and  Arethusa's  fountain,  for  in 
stance,  which  bespeak  its  primitive  greatness.  Ccphalonia  we 
now  approach.  The  only  distinguishing  point  in  that  isle  is, 
that  the  inhabitants  do  not  allow  their  ladies  ever  to  be  seen. 
Our  boat  at  last  runs  between  Cephalonia  or  Samos  ("  Dash 
down  that  cup  of  Samian  wine." — Byron}  and  Ithaca.  A  curious 
phenomenon  is  seen  upon  the  former.  The  water  of  the  sea 
flows  into  the  land  in  currents  or  rivulets,  which  descend  and 
are  lost  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Grist-mills  have  been  erected 
on  them.  They  pay,  too.  Ithaca  has  the  form  of  the  figure  8, 
and  is  in  the  middle  about  a  half  mile  wide.  It  is  just  as  it  was 
in  Ulysses'  time,  devoid  of  any  level  lawn.  Captain  Lowry 
informs  me  that  there  is  not  one  hundred  square  feet  of  level. 
Well  might  the  Chief  Ulysses  refuse  the  present  of  horses  offered 
him  by  the  Persian  monarch,  for  neither  mead  nor  plain  can 
supply  the  horse  with  food  or  indulge  his  speed. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  when  we  entered  the  straits  between 
these  two  isles.  The  dark  mountains  hung  over  in  deep  shadow, 
which  the  moon  relieved  by  silvering  their  tops  and  revealing 
the  old  ruins  of  the  Castle  of  Ulysses,  as  well  as  the  sight  of  the 
old  city,  whence  came  the  twenty-four  suitors  of  Penelope.  Only 
one  little  white  house  gleams  oat  of  the  shadows  below.  Above 
are  the  famous  sarcophagi,  populous  with  human  bones.  The 
clear  water  shines  with  phosphorescent  sparkle  and  mildei 
moonlight,  as  we  dart  out  into  the  open  sea,  with  our  prow 
toward  Corfu.  The  coasts  of  Albania  glide  low  and  dim  in  the 
far-off  East.  The  heavy  breakers  begin  to  tell  upon  my  sensi 
bilities,  and  I  retire  to  w,ake  up  in  the  harbor  of  Corfu. 

The  Ionian  islands  have  an  organization  which  externally 
resembles  somewhat  our  own  federation.  The  states  are,  to 


ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES.  261 

be  sure,  under  British  influence  and  protection.  Ionia  was 
ceded  to  England  by  the  treaty  of  Paris  in  1815,  and  was 
thus  rescued  from  the  domination  of  Russia.  The  internal 
organization  is  regulated  by  a  Parliament,  consisting  of  a  High 
Commissioner,  a  Senate,  and  a  Legislative  Assembly.  The 
Commissioner,  like  our  President,  has  a  veto  and  is  the  execu 
tive,  having  under  his  control  the  police  and  foreign  relations. 
He  is  represented  by  a  President  in  each  island,  who  stands  in 
the  relation  of  our  Governors  to  our  States.  The  Senate  is 
elective.  The  four  larger  isles,  Corfu,  Zante,  Cephalonia  and 
St.  Maura,  send  one  member  each.  The  lower  house  is  elective, 
and  consists  of  forty  members,  and  meets  every  second  year. 
These  isles  of  the  Adriatic  are  prospering  under  this  form  of 
government.  The  care  of  Great  Britain  is  tutelage  to  their 
inexperience.  The  Gh'ecia  tnendax  is  as  common  here  as  in 
other  parts  of  Attica,  unfitting,  by  its  corrupt  influence,  the 
people  from  exercising  in  its  purity  the  suffrages  of  honest  free 
men.  Indeed,  in  Greece  itself,  where  universal  suffrage  obtains, 
the  government  never  fails  to  triumph,  by  means  of  false  boxes 
for  ballots  and  other  fraudulent  contrivances.  Hence  the  Rus 
sian  party  is  always  dominant.  The  Liberal  party  must  first 
reform  the  morals  of  the  mass,  so  that  they  can  feel  an  outrage 
upon  their  rights,  and  then  they  may  be  able  to  vindicate  them. 
Shade  of  Demosthenes !  If  you  could  only  fulminate  over 
Greece,  and  awake  the  consciences  of  your  degenerate  country 
men,  then  Hope,  winged  like  the  image  of  Victory  on  the  Acro 
polis,  might  visit  each  sacred  haunt  to  revivify  the  glories  of 
the  past. 

At  Zante,  there  are  three  forts  very  strong  and  extensive. 
Several  regiments  are  stationed  here,  to  which  belong  our  two 
Captain-companions.  They  were  of  our  party,  when  the  Nubian 
slave  rattanned  our  firman,  and  drove  us  away  from  the  mosque 
of  St.  Sophia,  in  Constantinople.  Our  ignoble  retreat  before  a 
negro  was  a  bond  of  sympathy  which  has  united  us  ever  since. 
The  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand  under  Xenophon  was  nothing  to 


262  ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AMD   CLASSIC  ISLES. 

ours.     What  was  worse,  we  could  not  "  knock  the  negro  down," 
without  danger  of  instant  death  in  a  Moslem  mob. 

Our  captains  sent  their  pleasure-boat  for  us,  and  escorted  us 
around  the  forts,  barracks,  and  esplanade,  which  make  Corfu  at 
once  as  formidable  as  it  is  beautiful.  The  isles  of  olive  sur 
rounding  the  harbor  break  the  roughness  of  the  sea,  and  give  to 
the  prospect  a  lake-appearance  encircled  by  lofty  hills.  The 
coasts  of  Albania  shut  in  the  circle  with  their  gateways  of  rock. 
The  regiment  of  the  Captains  is  the  immortal  47th,  celebrated 
by  Harry  Lorrequer,  and  was  formerly  that  of  General  Wolfe. 
They  stormed  the  heights  of  Abraham,  and  (what  was  better) 
were  prisoners  in  Boston  during  the  Revolution.  The  same  plate 
and  other  appendages  of  the  regiment  have  descended  to  the 
present  "  Mess."  The  Mess  is  a  quasi  incorporation,  and  holds 
some  thousands  of  pounds  worth  of  interesting  relics.  We  shall 
never  forget  the  cordial  civility  of  these  officers  of  the  47th. 
May  they  always  be  victorious,  except  when  Uncle  Sam  is  their 
enemy  !  Their  courtesy  did  not  end  in  showing  us  the  Lord 
High  Commissioner's  palace,  or  the  splendid  intrenchments  and 
forts.  We  found  on  our  return  a  basket  of  fruitage,  which  could 
not  have  grown  in  any  other  isle  than  this,  which  rejoiced  in  the 
ancient  gardens  of  Alcinous.  Oranges  large  enough  for  cante- 
lopes,  bright  and  golden,  with  the  green  leaves  and  twigs  still 
about  them.  Plums,  purple  outside,  and  sanguine  within  ;  cher 
ries  black  as  they  were  glossy ;  citrons  losing  their  green  in  the 
silvery  yellow  ;  apples  whose  scarlet  would  put  to  blush  our  best 
horticulture,  and  mellow  as  the  plums ;  apricots  plump  in  their 
mealy  lusciousness  ;  figs  fresh,  and  bursting  their  seams  to  show 
the  glistening  white  and  red  that  wooed  the  tooth  ;  and  by  no 
means  last  or  least,  large  peaches,  emulating  the  color  while 
rivalling  the  size  of  our  red-cheeked  melekatoons  (spell  it  better 
if  you  can  !) — all  these  on  the  first  of  July,  and  after  we  have 
exhausted  the  grape  season  of  Smyrna.  I  would  not  omit  the 
almonds,  pears,  and  melons,  so  common  I  forgot  them.  The  na 
tives  here,  the  year  round,  live  on  fruits  and  wine  ;  and  keep 


ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND   CLASSIC  ISLES.  263 

good  health  the  mean  time.  Our  health  is  by  no  means  so  bad, 
but  that  the  above  basket  will  vanish  before  we  ';  tread  water" 
in  the  limpid  streets  of  Venice. 

Before  our  steamer  began  to  pant  away  from  Corfu,  our  kind 
friends  sailed  by,  on  their  way  to  Albania,  boar-shooting ;  and 
stopped  to  say  "good-bye."  The  last  word  of  the  gallant  Cap 
tain  Lowry,  an  Irishman  by  the  way,  was  :  "  Mrs.  C ,  now 

don't  forget  to  go  to  Killarney  !"  and  as  his  boat  careered  away, 
there  was  borne  on  the  breeze  the  words — "  No  more  Mahome 
tan  niggers  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !" 

How  kindly  and  warmly  the  words  of  friendship  and  courtesy 
fall  upon  the  ear  of  the  pilgrim.  Not  more  musically  sweet 
murmurs  the  fountain  '  which  shakes  its  loosened  silver  in  the 
sun,'  than  the  voice  of  a  kindred  spirit,  in  a  far-off  country  be 
yond  the  sea.  To  hear  a  warm-hearted  Englishman  quote  Long 
fellow  with  pride,  and  repeat  Chatham's  eloquent  appeal  for 
America  with  enthusiasm,  were  enough  to  banish  '  squint  suspi 
cion,'  and  bid  us  hail  him  as  our  elder  brother,  had  we  no  sub 
stantial  evidence  of  genuine  hospitality.  If  every  English 
captain  is  as  near  like  Sir  Calidore  in  courtesy  as  Captain 
Fordyce  or  Lowry  of  the  47th,  the  army  of  England  is  nobly 
officered. 

A  fine  veil  of  gossamer  begins  to  invest  the  receding  isles. 
We  leave  them  in  their  unclouded  canopy.  But  our  memory  of 
them — sweet  is  the  balm  which  preserves  it,  as  a  sacred  relic  in 
life's  pilgrimage.  We  leave  them  with  tearful  regret,  clad  as  of 
yore  in  their  azure  vesture.  Thus  have  they  ever  been ;  what 
Homer  saw  of  them,  they  seemed  to  Byron  ;  what  Anacreon  be 
held  in  them,  Shelley  rejoiced  to  see.  What  Creation's  dawn 
beheld,  this  day  we  see — enriched  by  the  spoils  of  time  and 
the  associations  of  renown.  Sleep  on  bright  isles  of  Greece ! 
Eternal  summer  gilds  your  sea ;  and  ye  sleep  so  tranquil  under 
a  sky 

"So  cloudless,  clear,  and  purely  beautiful, 
That  God  is  to  be  seen  in  Heaven." 


264  ORIENTAL  LUXURY  AND    CLASSIC  ISLES. 

We  expected  by  this  time  to  have  been  '  within  thy  gates, 
0  Jerusalem.'  But  we  learned  at  Athens  that  no  steamer 
left  for  Joppa  until  the  25th  of  July.  •  Too  late  that ;  for  the 
Syrian  sun  has  already  all  the  heat,  without  the  pleasure  of  a 
Turkish  bath.  To  have  been  within  ten  days  of  the  city  which 
'sits  solitary' — the  fulfilment  of  all  prophecy;  to  have  sailed 
within  three  days  of  the  excellency  and  glory  of  the  cedars  of 
Lebanon ;  and  not  to  have  seen  them,  will  it  not  be  forever  a 
drawback  upon  our  retrospect  ?  But  suppose  we  had  been  in 
Zion,  and  surmounted  Olivet,  where  David  and  a  Greater  than 
David  went  up  sorrowfully ;  how  could  we  have  left  Palestine 
without  visiting  the  most  beautiful  of  all  cities — Damascus. 
Could  we  have  had  the  continency  of  Mahomet  and  turned  away 
from  it  as  he  did,  saying,  '  one  Paradise  is  all  that  is  allotted  to 
man.  I  will  take  mine  in  the  other  world  !'  We  fear  not.  But 
regrets  are  useless.  Our  face  is  set  as  a  flint,  no  longer  Z ion- 
ward.  The  Adriatic  is  ploughed  by  our  keel.  As  we  turn 
homeward,  the  heart  throbs  more  warmly ;  and  when  we  are 
again  in  our  native  valley,  we  shall  dwell  in  much  content  there, 
grateful  to  God  if  He  shall  permit  us  yet  a  few  more  years  with 
our  friends,  and  a  resting  spot  at  last  amid  our  own  Muskinguin 
hills. 


XX. 

(City  nf  tju 


Una  Italum  regina,  altae  pulcherrimae  Eomae, 
.^Emula,  qu;e  terris,  quae  douiinaris  aquis. 
O  decus  !  0  lux  Ausonire  ! 

WE  are  in  Venice.  For  more  than  a  week  we  have  been  tossing 
on  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  straining  in  every 
plank  to  reach  this  point  of  the  Adriatic.  The  isles  have  passed 
like  unrealities  before  the  mind  ;  the  East,  with  its  many-shaped 
and  colored  costumes  and  scenery,  has  come  and  gone,  leaving 
but  its  memory  in  dreamy  outline  floating  in  the  soul.  The 
unreality  has  not  yet  ceased  5  for  we  are  again  in  the  midst  of 
wonders,  not  the  least  among  which  is  the  watery  street  that 
plays  against  our  door,  and  the  grotesque  and  unique  architec 
ture  which  is  overlooked  by  the  tower  of  St.  Mark's. 

Yesterday  (Sunday)  we  arrived  at  Trieste,  the  only  Austrian 
port  of  any  consequence.  It  is  remarkably  clean,  and  hand 
somely  built,  at  the  head  of  the  Adriatic.  The  streets  are  finely 
paved,  and  the  promenades,  green  and  enticing,  lie  along  the 
harbor  in  grateful  umbrage.  It  reminded  us  of  New-  York,  ex 
cept  that  each  street  was  a  Broadway  in  the  regularity  of  the 
tall  stone  houses  and  solid  paves.  We  drove  about  the  city. 
On  every  side  are  groups  and  crowds  of  people  in  their  Sunday 
best,  laughing  and  listening  to  the  music.  The  cafes  are  all 
thronged  with  eaters  of  ices  and  drinkers  of  wine.  Our  ride 
extended  down  between  the  two  lofty  hills,  within  whose  scoop 
the  city  lies.  "We  found  a  splendid  cafe  upon  the  side  hill,  with 
walks  under  oak  groves  winding  up  to  the  summit,  and  all 


266  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA- 

crowded  with  people  listening  to  music,  and  partaking  of  refresh- 
ment.  We  joined  the  throng  much  against  our  puritan  princi 
ples.  Waltzing  whirled  around  in  the  houses  of  the  poorer 
people  as  we  passed.  Sunday  seemed  absolutely  sunk  in  the 
general  joyousness.  A  few  Ilussian  soldiers  reminded  us  of  the 
union  of  Austria  with  her  kindly  ally,  while  numbers  of  the 
white-dressed  soldiers  of  Austria  spoke  of  the  iron  coercion 
which  keeps  down  the  spirit  of  the  masses  in  the  Lombardo- 
Venetian  province  of  the  Hapsburgs.  And  yet — why  speak  of 
their  spirit,  poor,  contemptible,  despot-fawning  crowds ;  are 
they  not  enslaved  by  the  very  music  and  gayety  which  their 
masters  have  provided  for  them  ?  And  is  it  not  the  same  sly 
expedient  which  now  blows  through  brass,  and  beats  on  sheep 
skin  in  the  piazza  of  St.  Mark's,  followed  by  eager  thousands, 
totally  absorbed  in  the  pursuit  ?  There  are  other  chains  than 
those  of  iron.  Ignoble  ease  and  oblivious  gayety  are  worse  than 
prisons  of  stone,  and  manacles  of  iron.  They  indicate  a  subjec 
tion  of  mind,  and  a  meanness  of  spirit,  wholly  incompatible  with 
the  generous  impulses  and  noble  aims  of  freemen. 

A  heavy  fort  overlooks  Trieste,  from  one  of  the  hills — rather 
ominous.  Similar  forts  were  near  Genoa  and  Rome,  when  the 
first  of  1848  dawned.  But  they  now  lie  in  ruins — the  expres 
sion  of  aroused  popular  indignation.  Fine  villas,  embowered  in 
green  trees,  and  surrounded  with  vines  and  fruits,  line  the  slopes 
of  the  hills  around  Trieste.  Our  star-spangled  flag  floats  from 
two  noble  ships  in  port — the  Independence  and  the  Mississippi. 
They  look  a  little  saucy  here,  after  Webster's  letter.  I  wonder 
what  business  they  have  !  They  seem  to  say,  "  Just  hang  a  spy, 
Sir  Buzzard,  an  thou  darest ;  but  if  you  do,  we  will  blow  you 

to "     I  beg  pardon — it  is  Sunday.     One  is  apt  to  forget 

peace  principles  while  abroad.  The  guns  were  firing,  the  music 
braying,  and  people  hallooing,  at  a  great  rate.  How  could  ono 
think  it  was  the  Sabbath  day  ? 

There  are  daily  steamers  to  Venice,  small  though  they  be. 
Indeed,  owing  to  the  wash  of  the  Alpine  rivers,  which  here 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA.  267 

empty,  the  Adriatic  is  not  more  than  twelve  fathoms  deep,  in 
and  around  these,  her  northern  shores  ;  hence  these  small  boats. 
In  coming  into  Venice,  we  had  to  sound  with  a  long  pole,  as  we 
wound  between  the  piles  driven  to  show  the  channel  in  the 
Lagoon.  The  sea  is  completely  broken  for  eighty  miles  along 
the  coast,  by  numerous  isles,  as  well  as  by  the  noble  rampart 
erected  on  the  Lido  di  Palestrina,  whose  marble  appearance  and 
solid  material  unites  beauty  with  utility,  and  forms  a  public 
monument  not  excelled  by  the  Pireus,  the  mole  of  Ancona,  or 
by  any  other  similar  work  in  the  world.  Venice  itself  is  built 
upon  seventy-two  isles,  in  which  piles  are  driven  for  the  houses. 
Hence,  such  a  city  can  sleep  in  comparative  peace  amidst  the 
waters ;  though  gondolas  have  been  known  to  attend  mass  in 
St.  Mark's  !  The  mail  from  Alexandria  and  India  is  not  carried 
by  Venice,  but  by  Trieste,  in  consequence  of  the  shallowness  of 
the  waters. 

For  an  hour  before  we  reached  Venice,  the  city  was  an 
nounced  through  its  elegant  cupolas  and  towers,  rising  out  of 
the  sea,  The  country  around  was  flat,  but  now  and  then  a  silver 
thread  of  snow  would  glisten  out  of  the  Tyrol  beyond,  which 
rose  under  cloud-vestments,  lofty  and  sublime.  A  few  sail  of 
colored  canvas,  peculiar  to  these  shores,  float  by  us.  We  pass 
around  green  isles,  whereon  are  palaces.  Orange  groves  and 
marble  steps  kiss  the  water's  edge,  and  gondolas — floating 
hearses — begin  to  appear,  but  not  trim  and  graceful,  as  the 
caiques  of  the  Bosphorus.  Sea-weed,  as  Rogers  describes  it, 
clings  to  the  marble  palaces.  How  variant  is  the  verdure  of 
the  trees,  ranging  from  the  deep  green  of  the  cypress  to  the 
pale,  yellowish  green  of  the  flowering  locust.  The  Venetian 
Gothic,  so  nearly  resembling  the  Byzantine  style,  rears  its 
swelling  domes  from  the  sea.  Soon  watery  alleys  and  streets 
begin  to  open,  and  little  spanning  bridges  bend  darkling  far 
down  the  perspective.  A  few  more  dashes  of  the  steamer,  and 
we  drop  anchor  in  front  of  the  Ducal  Palace,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Grand  Canal,  and  in  view  of  the  twin  pillars,  on  one  of 


268  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA- 

which  the  authentic  winged  lion  starts  back  with  open  mouth 
and  snarling  teeth ;  and  upon  the  other,  St.  Theodore  standing 
upon  the  crocodile,  and,  with  an  auriole  around  his  brow,  sheds 
his  influence  upon  the  magnificent  temple  of  St.  Mark,  the  fine 
Piazza,  and  this  unique  "  City  of  the  Sea."  We  do  not  long 
remain  gazing  at  the  unusual  spectacle.  A  gondola  plays  the 
part  of  an  omnibus,  and  drives  us  around  to  a  hotel.  We  pull 
up  at  a  by-door,  ring  a  bell,  and  are  welcomed  at  Doniella's. 
We  found  there  five  sovereigns — the  Elector  of  Saxony  and  four 
Americans ! 

Being  expeditious  travellers,  we  immediately  set  about  our 
work  of  sight-seeing.  It  is  not  easy  labor  by  any  means,  and 
the  best  part  of  the  pleasure  lies  in  the  review,  during  the  ex 
pected  hours  of  the  winter  fireside. 

We  found  ourselves  upon  the  Square  of  St.  Mark.  The 
grim  and  gloomy  prison,  connected  by  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  with 
the  Ducal  Palace— a  place  to  freeze  the  soul  with  horror, — is 
passed  before  we  reach  the  lesser  piazza,  in  front  of  which  our 
boat  landed.  The  Venetian  tower,  brother  to  the  ungainly- 
looking  sentinel  which  clings  to  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  (where 
it  is  entirely  out  of  place),  springs  out  of  the  piazza  some  300  or 
400  feet  high.  A  solemn  and  sweet  bell  rings  in  deep  bass  the 
hour  of  five.  We  gaze  at  the  strange  old  vicissitudinous  lion, 
which  has  so  long  presided  over  the  destiny  of  the  Venetian, 
and  which  some  years  ago  paid  a  visit  to  Paris,  exciting  as  much 
curiosity  there  as  veneration  here.  This  lion  is  the  representa 
tive  of  St.  Mark,  the  patron  of  the  city.  The  king  of  beasts 
has  been  associated  with  that  Evangelist,  because  the  lion  seen 
by  Ezekiel  in  his  mystic  vision  is  supposed  to  be  the  prototype 
of  St.  Mark. 

Around  the  corner  to  the  left  is  the  great  Piazza.  The 
columns  of  the  cafe,  covered  with  hangings,  and  the  arcade  of 
jewellers  opposite,  with  the  white  marble  palace,  built  by  Napo 
leon  at  the  west,  and  the  Church  of  St.  Mark  at  the  east,  form 
a  large  hollow  square,  wherein  the  joy-loving,  mustering,  trading, 
curious  and  devout  citizens  of  Venice  are  wont  to  congregate* 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA.  269 

St.  Mark's,  statued  and  niched,  with  its  four  bronze  horses 
and  lion,  all  glittering  with  mosaic  and  gilt,  surmounted  by  its 
fine  cupolas  and  pretty  little  domes  above  (how  I  like  those 
domelets  !),  has  a  finer  ground  of  vantage  to  display  its  sin 
gular  style  of  beauty  than  any  church,  except  St.  Peter's,  that 
we  have  seen.  The  first  object  after  gazing  above  at  the  mo 
saics,  in  which  St.  Mark  and  his  tomb  play  a  prominent  part, 
is  the  red  lozenge  stone,  whereon  the  reconciliation  between  Pope 
Alexander  III.  and  the  Emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa  took 
place,  and  where  the  former  placed  his  foot  upon  the  prostrate 
head  of  the  latter,  adding  contempt  to  the  abasement  by  saying,. 
"  Thou  shalt  tread  upon  the  lion  and  the  adder."  Oh  !  impo 
tent  foolery  !  Where  are  ye  now,  Alexander  and  Frederick  ? 
If  ye  are  in  Heaven,  (?)  little  children  are  greater  there  than 
ye  both  ! 

The  church  within  is  dark.  Golden  mosaics  give  general 
tone  to  its  appearance.  Marbles  of  every  kind,  precious  stones, 
among  which  I  saw  an  agate  six  inches  in  diameter  in  the  form 
of  a  dome,  pillars  from  ^  St.  Sophia,  which  this  church  is  said  to 
resemble  in  its  primitive  adornments,  transparent  alabaster  and 
exquisite  jasper,  meet  the  eye  above,  around,  and  below.  In 
deed,  we  tread  upon  the  finest  mosaic  paves  we  have  yet  seen. 
The  oozy  foundation  has  broken  the  level,  as  well  as  many  of 
the  stones.  While  St.  Mark's  was  in  process  of  erection,  each 
vessel  was  bound,  upon  every  voyage,  to  bring  home  some  piece 
of  marble  or  precious  stone  to  form  a  part  of  the  structure.  This 
will  account  for  their  abundant  variety.  To  speak  plainly,  the 
church  is  made  up  of  the  results  of  petty  larcenies  in  time  of  peace 
and  under  color  of  war.  Even  the  body  of  St.  Mark  was  stolen 
from  Alexandria  by  some  u  wily  Venetian,"  and  is  entombed  in 
the  centre  of  the  church.  The  church  is  in  the  form  of  a  Greek 
cross.  There  is  not  the  freshness  and  brilliancy  of  St.  Peter's 
in  St.  Mark's,  but  there  is  a  greatness  and  antiquity  about  it 
which  impresses  it  more  solemnly  on  the  mind.  Massive  doors, 
old  inscriptions,  bass-reliefs,  fluted  and  spiral  pillars,  outre  sculp- 


270  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA. 

tures,  together  with  a  fine  sacristy,  constitute  the  inner  adorn 
ment,  over  which  the  reflective  golden  light  from  the  mosaics  is 
poured  in  a  dim,  religious  flood.  But  the  outside  is  the  most 
peculiar  affair  in  Venice.  Indeed,  there  is  nothing  like  it  any 
where.  The  four  horses  were  brought,  in  the  earlier  eras,  from 
the  Hippodrome  of  Constantinople,  and  have  played  important 
parts  upon  numerous  triumphal  arches  in  Borne  and  Paris. 
Examine  the  entrance  particularly.  Prophets  and  Evangelists, 
allegorical  figures  of  the  months  and  of  all  trades,  mystical  fig 
ures  of  beasts  and  birds,  many  of  them  reminding  you  of  "  the 
half  horse,  half  man,  and  the  rest  snapping-turtle,"  crockets  and 
finials  filled  with  statues,  give  the  effect  of  a  Gothic  cathedral, 
intermingled  with  which  is  an  Oriental  style ;  and  this  combi 
nation  has  given  to  St.  Mark's  its  sui  generis  character. 

Was  my  reader  at  Cincinnati  during  the  great  rise  of  the 
Ohio,  in  the  winter  of  1848?  Does  he  remember  how  the 
streets  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lower  Market  looked  in  their 
watery  garb  ?  Just  so, — with  a  difference  in  the  color  of  the 
water  and  the  kind  of  houses, — looked  Venice  when  we  caught 
its  first  impression  between  sun-down  and  moon-rise  as  we  rowed 
up  the  grand  canal  to  the  Rialto.  The  impression  of  a  flooded 
city,  flattened  houses,  with  desertion  and  desolation,  could  not 
be  removed  ;  although  lamps  gleamed  at  the  door-ways,  and 
marble  steps  were  washed  conveniently  by  the  wave.  Soon 
lights  began  to  flicker  and  glance  upon  the  gondola  and  bridge, 
which  the  water  gave  back  with  added  brilliancy.  "We  listened 
in  vain  for  the  songs  of  Tasso,  sung  under  the  rising  moon  by 
gondoliers. — in  vain  for  serenading  lovers  with  eyes  upturned  to 
the  balconies,  where  we  did  see  many  a  fair  Desdeuiona ;  in  vain 
for  the  Tobarro  of  the  men  and  the  Zeudale  of  the  women, — 
those  national  dresses  of  Venice  in  her  proud  days  of  indepen 
dence.  Austrian  rule  has  robbed  the  home  of  Cassio  and  of 
honest  lago  of  that  romance  which  has  been  associated  with 
Venice,  in  the  stage  representation  of  Othello.  The  gondoliers 
near  the  Rialto  made  as  much  noise  as  the  kind  people  who 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA.  271 

rapped  up  Brabantio  to  tell  him  that  his  daughter  had  ran  off 
with  the  jealous  blackamoor. 

In  default  of  foreign  romance,  we  started  a  little  of  the 
"Buckeye — some  domestic  songs  from  our  gondola,  and  right 
sweetly  sounded  the  voices  of  the  songstresses,  vibrating  upon 
the  silent  water  among  the  palaces  of  the  merchant  Kings. 
Their  song  echoed  the  scene  ; 

"  Tis  midnight  hour,  the  moou  shines  bright ; 
The  dew-drops  blaze  beneath  her  rays ; 
The  twinkling  stars — their  trembling  light 
Like  Beauty's  eyes  display." 

An  hour  upon  the  Piazza  listening  to  other  music,  and  en 
joying  the  ices,  and  again  we  are  housed  for  the  night. 

We  had  hardly  been  housed,  before  our  sovereign  cousin  of 
Saxony,  dressed  in  stately  style,  with  a  naming  retinue,  departed 
to  attend  an  evening  party,  to  which  we  could  not  go,  owing  to 
excessive  fatigue.  Had  we  known,  however,  the  rich  treat  which 
was  afforded  him,  we  certainly  should  have  joined  his  train. 
Large  gondolas  of  singers  were  arranged  to  precede  him  ;  an 
hundred  gondolas  followed,  each  moving  to  the  music  with  muf 
fled  oar  ;  lights  glanced  around  from  window  and  balcony.  Boat 
answered  boat  in  Venetian  song,  and  all  joined  the  chorus. 
When  they  reached  the  Rialto,  a  great  blue  light  flashed  forth, 
which  displayed  the  whole  scene,  while  the  singers  arranged 
under  the  swelling  arch  of  the  bridge  made  the  welkin  tremble 
with  the  freight  of  melody. 

In  some  respects  I  am  disappointed  in  Venice.  I  expected, 
or  rather  wished,  to  find  it  the  Venice  of  the  Doges.  It  is  not 
so  large  as  I  expected.  We  have  just  returned  from  the  sum 
mit  of  the  great  tower  in  the  Piazza.  It  affords  a  fine  view  of 
the  surrounding  country,  but  not  of  the  city.  The  city  must  be 
seen  from  the  canals.  The  churches  are  distinguished  by  their 
domes  and  cupolas,  from  which  there  rolls  up  music  from  the 
sweetest  toned  bells  we  have  yet  heard.  The  isles  and  the 


272  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA. 

royal  garden  near  St.  Mark's  are  the  only  green  spots  to  break 
the  sameness  of  the  crockery  tiles.  The  city  seems  like  one 
isle  out  of  the  tower,  from  which  the  canals  are  unseen,  connect 
ed  with  the  main  land  by  the  bridge  of  the  railroad  (three  miles 
long),  leading  to  Milan.  The  hills  of  the  west  range  up  along 
the  horizon,  beyond  which  sleeps  Ferrara.  Odd  looking  chim 
neys,  made  apparently  to  catch  rain,  open  their  mouths  in  des 
perate  yawns,  while  under  and  around  them,  upon  the  flat  roofs, 
are  frequently  seen  tables,  chairs,  and  flowers,  where  resort  at 
evening  this  air-loving  people.  The  Adriatic  is  dotted  with 
piles  and  gondolas,  as  well  as  with  isles.  To-day  it  is  cloudy 
and  gloomy.  The  breeze  comes  keen  with  driplets  of  rain.  We 
take  a  glance  at  a  few  of  the  leaning  towers  of  oozy  Venice,  and 
descend  to  visit  the  Ducal  Palace. 

The  lion's  mouth — sans  the  mouth — is  at  its  old  orifice  of 
accusation.  We  enter  superb  stair-cases,  passing  the  spot  where 
Doge  Marino  Faliero  was  crowned  and— hanged ;  and  after 
looking  until  the  eye  aches  at  pictures  of  Venetians  fighting 
Turks,  and  Doges  being  received  and  blessed  by  Popes,  we  find 
ourselves  in  the  Great  Council  Chamber.  It  is  a  noble  hall. 
At  one  end  is  a  picture  of  Paradise,  the  largest  oil  painting  in 
the  world,  being  85  by  35  feet.  The  room  is  176  feet  long  and 
185  broad,  and  is  used  as  a  library.  How  I  love  to  enter  a 
silent,  solemn  library,  filled  with  the  embound  essence  of  the 
past,  concentrated  in  words  that  '  live  an  immortality  rather 
than  a  life.'  Here,  in  this  palace,  lives  have  been  strangled 
under  the  decree  of  the  infernal  Council  of  Ten;  here  the 
best  blood  of  Venice  was  spilt  at  the  beck  of  the  cruel  Decem 
vir  ;  but  in  these  alcoves  the  best  compensation  for  blood  is 
treasured  up  for  a '  life  beyond  life.3  How  calmly,  now,  do  these 
spirits  rest  in  their  bindings  of  white.  Not  more  peacefully 
rests  their  dust  in  the  cerements  of  the  grave. 

"  Here  all  the  rage  of  controversy  ends 
And  rival  zealots  rest  like  bosom  friends : 
Socinians  here  with  Calvinists  abide, 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA.  273 

And  thin  partitions  angry  chiefs  divide  ;  » 

Here  wily  Jesuits  simple  Quakers  meet, 
And  Bellarmine  has  rest  at  Lnther's  feet." 

If  these  sectarian  controversialists  sleep  not  here,  I  am  sure 
TASSO  has  repose  in  the  bowers  of  his  own  muse,  and  DANTE 
feels  no  pang  of  exile  in  these  hospitable  shelves  All  around 
are  the  forms  of  the  Doges  looking  down  upon  their  ancient 
hall.  Only  one  portrait  is  wanting.  A  black  curtain  hangs 
over  the  place  where  Marino — the  infamous — might  have  been. 

The  Venetian  style  of  painting  is  admirable  in  more  re 
spects  than  having  definitiveness  of  outline  and  clearness  of 
expression,  without  which,  whatever  connoisseurs  may  say,  paint 
ing  is  irksome  to  the  eye,  if  not  perplexing  to  the  mind.  Some 
persons  make  a  merit  of  admiring  paintings  because  they  are 
dim  and  indefinite.  The  darker  the  outline,  the  more  gloomy 
the  figures — and  the  greater  the  visual  effort  to  see  what  the 
artist  may  have  designed,  the  more  excellent,  in  their  eye,  is 
the  painting.  To  all  such,  we  would  simply  say,  "  look  to  the 
Transfiguration  of  Eaphael — the  mightiest  effort  of  the  pencil ; 
and  if  you  can  find  in  it  any  dim,  dark  uncertainty,  clinging 
about  the  forms  or  the  idea  which  they  embody,  then  hang  your 
galleries  full  of  blackish  landscapes  and  shady  forms,  and  call 
them — beautiful."  How  much  more  admirable  in  this  regard  is 
the  painting  of  Venice  than  the  school  of  Naples  !  But  hurry 
is  the  word  !  The  Council  of  Ten  no  longer  close  their  myste 
rious  door.  The  Council  of  Three  have  lost  their  guard.  We 
enter  each.  Aye  !  even  the  deep,  dark  dungeons  where  the 
political  prisoner  received  the  rack,  and  the  massive  doors  which 
lead  to  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  opens,  and  with  spectral  lamp 
light  we  view  each  den  of  horror,  and  gaze  out  of  those  bars 
where  the  sad  prisoners  looked  last  at  the  clear  moonlight 
which  was  reflected  from  the  Adriatic  !  The  instruments  of 
fiendish  torture  were  in  the  Arsenal.  We  only  saw  its  ex 
terior. 

How  these  sights  speak   of  the  cruel  past !     What  a  pro- 


274  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SEA. 

grjess  has  man  made  even  here,  where  Austria  holds  the  key, 
since  the  golden  days  when  the  marriage  ring  was  cast  into  the 
Adriatic  !  What  a  change  could  be  marked  upon  that  large 
globe  in  the  library,  where  America  in  the  sixteenth  century  is 
drawn  in  doubtful  limning  beyond  the  sea,  and  upon  which  I 
remarked  the  Florida  Indians  only  as  inhabiting  the*  United 
States  !  Navigation  has  improved  since  the  era  when  the  Ve 
netian  ran  to  Crete  and  Byzantium,  or  planted  the  golden  ball 
upon  her  mast  as  the  symbol  of  her  commercial  glory. 

In  one  respect  the  Venetians  may  boast.  They  have  no  dust 
to  blind  the  eye  of  the  passenger.  Their  streets  are  well  wa 
tered.  Another  item  is,  that  you  hear  no  clatter  of  carriages 
or  drays.  No  common  council  is  troubled  to  death  about  pav 
ing  the  way.  But  as  an  offset,  it  must  be  confessed  that  pile- 
driving  is  troublesome,  although  bathing  is  handy.  Water  for 
drinking  is  carried  about  upon  the  shoulders  by  women  and 
sold.  It  is  drawn  from  the  wells  of  bronze  in  the  Ducal  Piazza, 
into  which  it  is  poured  for  filtration  after  being  boated  into 
the  city. 

With  dirt  and  sea-weed  as  her  foundation,  Venice  has  arisen 
from  the  sea,  a  city  of  might,  and  of  wonderful  duration  in  the 
course  of  time.  For  thirteen  centuries,  she  continued  indepen 
dent  and  potent,  unattacked  by  the  scourges  of  the  North,  who 
overran  the  beautiful  plains  of  Lombardy  ;  and  during  that  time 
extended  her  sway  over  great  nations,  from  the  Pireus — whose 
lions  yet  adorn  her  harbor — to  Constantinople,  where  her  towers 
yet  bespeak  her  conquests  ! 


XXI. 

nf 


"  Every  tree,  well  from  his  fellow  grew, 
With  branches  broad,  laden  with  leaves  new, 
That  sprangen  out  against  the  sunny  sheen." 

Beaumont  &  Fletcher. 

THE  Austrian  power  is  by  no  means  to  be  contemned.  One 
need  not  sojourn  long  even  in  Italy  to  ascertain  that.  This 
garden  spot  of  the  world,  stretching  from  the  Apennines  and  the 
Po  to  the  Alps,  has  been  sadly  divided  since  our  ancestral 
relatives,  the  Long  Beards  or  Lombards,  held  it  ;  and  rejoiced 
to  hold  it  under  Queen  Theolinda  and  the  Iron  Crown.  A  con 
siderable  portion  of  proud  old  Lombardy,  including  the  Queen 
of  the  Adriatic,  now  owns  the  Austrian  yoke.  The  treaty  of 
Vienna,  in  1814,  which  fixed,  temporarily,  the  destiny  of  the 
Bonapartes  (for  the  world  is  not  yet  done  with  them),  also  fixed 
in  Austria  all  its  former  possessions,  including  Venice,  which 
she  had  not  before  the  revolutionary  war.  These  possessions 
were  erected  into  a  distinct  kingdom  from  that  of  Austria  pro 
per,  and  are  known  as  the  Lombardo-  Venetian  kingdom.  There 
are  two  governments,  Venice  with  2,168,553  inhabitants,  and 
Milan  with  some  five  thousand  more  than  Venice. 

These  plains  of  Lombardy  have  ever  been  the  theatre  of 
ravages  and  wars.  Long  before  Marengo,  Lodi,  and  Arcoli  were 
fought  by  Bonaparte,  these  fertile  plains  had  attracted  the  eye 
of  the  savage  Teutons,  as  they  looked  down  through  the  Alpine 
passes.  The  best  part  of  Italy,  described  by  Virgil  as  the 
ubere  glebae  et  potens  armis,  —  the  land  of  the  mulberry  and  the 
worm,  the  vine  and  the  olive  —  the  realm  of  beautiful  lakes  mir- 


276     LOMBARD  Y,—  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  WORLD. 

roring  lofty  mountains, — the  instructress  of  Christendom  during 
the  middle  ages,  in  civil  law  and  medicine, — no.w  wears  the  badge 
of  the  Austrian,  from  the  Northern  to  the  Maritime  Alps, 
stretching  from  the  frontiers  of  Piedmont,  where  the  Austrian 
in  white  uniform  demanded  our  passports  before  we  launched 
upon  Maggiore,  to  the  city  of  watery  streets,  which  the  reader 
has  skimmed  in  my  last  chapter. 

You  may  remember,  that  while  at  our  hotel  in  Rome,  one  of 
the  servants  being  a  Republican,  received  a  notice  from  Richard 
Roe,  the  government  in  possession,  to  quit  the  premises  within 
a  given  time ;  and  that  we  proposed  to  annex  him  to  our  confed 
eracy.  Well  he  met  us,  as  agreed,  in  Venice,  and  by  his  know 
ledge  of  Italian,  solved  for  us  many  difficulties.  He  bears  the 
swelling  and  artistic  name  of  Dominichino  Pollano,  and  loves 
priests  as  do  the  other  Republicans  of  1848. 

The  Elector  of  Saxony,  whom  we  shall  ever  respect  as  the 
successor  to  the  great  and  good  defender  of  Luther,  was  deter 
mined  not  to  be  left  behind  by  us.  We  found  him  at  the  rail 
road  station  with  his  Queen,  in  the  royal  train,  about  to  puff 
homeward.  He  seems  always  to  beat  us.  We  were  behind  him 
at  the  Venetian  tower  yesterday  morn.  We  liked  his  homely  and 
matter-of-fact  air,  but  his  aide-de-camp — Oh  !  mercy  of  me  ! 

"  He  had  so  tricked  himself  with  Art, 
That  of  himself  he  was  least  part." 

The  Queen  sat  in  her  golden  chair  in  the  car,  as  it  whizzed 
by  the  long  stretched  necks  of  prying  Venetians,  who  seemed  to 
snuff  with  eagerness  the  air  of  royalty.  We  were  soon  in  full 
chase  over  the  three-mile  bridge,  then  out  of  the  marshy  land  into 
the  garden  of  gardens.  On  either  side  mulberries,  festooned  with 
and  joined  together  by  vines  pendant  with  embryo  clusters 
made  vistas  of  exceeding  loveliness.  The  trees  were  linked  hand 
and  hand  by  their  green  tendrils  and  branches,  and  as  our  cars 
dashed  by,  they  danced  jubilantly  and  gracefully.  All  nature 
was  inwoven  in  one  verdant  texture  ;  the  ploughed  fields,  off  of 


LOMBARDY,—THE  GARDEN  OF  THE   WORLD.  277 

which  the  first  crop  had  been  taken,  and  which  were  now  sowed 
for  the  second,  of  millet,  lay  between  the  linked  arbors,  alternat 
ing  with  the  yellow  and  green  fields.  Southern  Italy  was  luxu 
riant,  but  scorched  and  dusty ;  England  was  rural  with  comfort 
and  beauty  ;  France  was  clad  in  vineyards  from  the  base  of  its 
swelling  hills  to  their  summits,  but  here, — here,  is  the  verdur 
ous  heart  of  Nature,  irrigated  by  Alpine  showers  and  torrents, 
and  throbbing  with  vegetable  life  to  its  minutest  fibre.  But 
why  so  many  mulberries  ?  Ah  !  do  you  ask,  after  looking  into 
those  halls,  where  roll  a  thousand  reels,  upon  whose  circuit  the 
silken  tomb  of  the  worm  is  wound  in  glossy  tenuity  under  the 
property  of  easiness  which  dwells  in  the  fingers  of  the  Italian 
women  ?  And  do  you  boast,  Ohioan,  that  your  State  in  a  half 
century  holds  nearly  two  millions  of  souls  supported  by  a  vigor 
ous  agriculture  ?  Listen  to  the  story  of  progress  in  this  Aus 
trian  dependency,  in  spite  of  exactions  and  insecurity,  and  be 
ready  to  confess  that  the  man  of  industry  and  energy  is  not  alone 
an  American  nor  a  Republican. 

The  white  mulberry  is  a  dwarfish  thickly-leaved  tree,  and  is 
the  source  of  Lombard  wealth.  In  thirty  years,  the  production 
of  silk  from  the  fibre  of  this  tree,  and  the  spinning-worm  feeding 
from  it,  has  grown  from  a  small  value  to  the  enormous  sum  of 
$50.000.000.  In  1800,  the  Lombardo- Venetian  kingdom  did 
not  exceed  1,800,000  Ibs.  of  silk.  In  the  dry  and  hilly  parts  of 
the  country,  the  worm  works  to  the  best  advantage  ;  but  through 
out  the  whole  of  the  kingdom,  there  is  an  activity  in  this  branch, 
which  furnishes  to  the  people  every  comfort  and  convenience. 
Especially  around  Padua  and  Verona,  to  which  our  car  is  rapidly 
drawing  near,  is  the  silk  culture  prolific. 

We  had  barely  time  to  glance  at  Padua,  renowned  as  the  seat 
of  the  University,  and  of  the  Duomo  of  Michael  Angelo.  If  I 
remember  aright,  it  was  from  this  queenly  city  of  Padua  that 
there  came  the  '  second  Daniel'  to  judge  the  case  of  the  merchant 
of  Venice,  and  she  did  judge  it  right  learnedly  for  a  '  timid  fe 
male.'  Vincenza,  on  a  lofty  hill,  all  beautified  in  leanness,  forti- 


278     LOMBARDY,—  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  WORLD. 

fied  and  romantic,  was  soon  lost  to  the  eye,  which  wandered  far 
over  to  the  right,  above  the  mountains  of  Tyrol,  which  in  their 
coverings  of  cloud  peeped  out  in  a  shower  of  rain.  The  hills 
toward  Ferrara  glistened  in  green.  A  slight  breeze  turned  up 
the  silvered  willow  leaves  white  to  the  view,  while  they  rustled. 
Through  the  shower  we  looked  very  hard  for  the  obelisk,  and 
not  in  vain,  which  marks  the  desperate  battle  of  Arcoli,  fought 
upon  a  spot  between  the  cities  of  Vincenza  and  Verona,  upon 
the  banks  of  the  Adigo.  Here  Napoleon  gave  the  best  evidence 
on  record  of  personal  daring ;  here  he  was  torn  from  his  guards 
leading  the  forlorn  hope,  surrounded  in  the  midst  of  the  swamps, 
and  protected  only  by  the  single  arms  of  his  aids,  when  the  thril 
ling  cry  of  "  Save  the  General  /"  rang  down  the  ranks  of  the  dis 
heartened  French,  and  rallied  them  to  victory  !  Here  Lannes 
was  wounded  ;  and  here  the  child  of  destiny  himself  received 
some  of  the  first  intuitions  of  the  great  calling  which  eventuated 
in  his  becoming  the  head  of  the  empire.  We  entered  Verona 
after  dark,  so  that  I  could  not  see  Shakspeare's  "  two  gentlemen." 
Neither  could  I  imagine  any  place  in  the  dusky  shade  so  com 
pletely  romantic  as  the  balcony  of  Juliet,  nor  observe  any  wall 
so  provokingly  high  as  to  try  the  vigorous  assault  of  the  fond 
Romeo. 

The  cars  stop  here.  Diligence  is  our  next  vehicle;  and  the 
morning  found  it  tumbling  into  the  famous  city  where  the  Cheva 
lier  Bayard  displayed  so  much  courage  and  gallantry, — I  mean 
Brescia.  "We  passed  Lake  Garda  in  the  night.  I  have  an  indis 
tinct  notion  of  seeing  a  moon  floating  in  a  lucent  wave,  as  we 
rattled  along  the  margin  of  the  lake,  through  a  stony  little  town 
called  Lugano.  My  consciousness  was  sufficiently  restored  to 
try  a  breakfast  at  Brescia. 

Italy  is  no  rank  garden  run  to  seed,  or  unweeded.  Tidy  and 
trim  is  each  grape-vine  and  mulberry  grove.  At  every  turn  we 
see  women  serving  the  reel  and  handling  the  cocoon,  digging  the 
ground  and  pruning  the  vines.  Old  fashioned,  overshot  wheels 
turn  the  machinery,  and  the  same  torrent  which  turns  them, 


LOMBARD  Y,— THE  GARDEN  OF   THE   WORLD.  279 

gives  drink  to  the  soil.  The  harvest  was  mostly  in.  A  few 
gleaners  were  in  the  fields.  The  rivers  along  our  way  were  all 
walled  against  the  Alpine  floods.  Men  were  flailing  like  a  band 
of  Taluses,  at  the  wheat,  with  women  in  high  hats  assisting  the 
operation.  A  Yankee  thrashing  machine  would  scare  these  tor 
rents  to  their  sources.  Shrines  were  plenty  along  the  way,  con 
taining  rude  pictures  of  the  Madonna  or  some  favorite  Saint, 
hung  with  flowers.  Heavy  loaded  two-wheeled  wagons — having 
wine  casks  upon  the  top,  and  a  human  underneath  in  a  hammock, 
swinging  amid  dust  and  sound  asleep  at  the  horses'  heels,  and 
rocks  hanging  fore  or  aft  as  ballast  below  to  equalize  the  load 
— were  drawn  by  five  horses  tandem,  and  not  without  the  ever 
lasting  bell  which  must  always  jingle  upon  the  highway.  No 
beggars  trot  after  us.  The  cars  again  receive  us  at  Treviglio. 

The  arrangement  at  the  station  is  even  beautiful.  You  are 
introduced  into  an  elegant  room,  awaiting  your  time  to  start. 
A  bell  taps  !  You  start.  "  Nay — "  says  Bominichino  ;  "  that 
is  for  baggage."  Another  tap  !  "  That  is  the  first  class,  for 
fools  and  princes."  Yet  another  !  "  Second  class,"  and  we  find 
our  door  opened,  and,  without  noise  or  confusion,  are  placed  in 
our  right  seat.  In  a  twinkling  we  were  off  for  Milan  between 
rows  of  locusts,  which  provokingly  shut  out  the  view,  while  they 
gave  to  our  ride,  umbrageousness. 

We  left  Lodi  and  its  gory  honor  on  our  south,  crossed  the 
Adra,  and  were  soon  knocking  at  the  Posta  gate  of  Milan,  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  cities  of  the  world.  Our  drive  to  the  hotel 
is  under  a  promenade,  which  constitutes  the  circumference  of 
the  city,  and  measures  twelve  miles  !  Travellers  have  rarely 
described  Milan  as  it  really  is,  in  all  the  splendor  of  its  views, 
and  the  greatness  of  its  extent.  Standing,  as  it  does,  between 
the  gorgeous  palaces  of  nature  upon  the  North,  and  the  temples 
of  art  and  luxury  upon  the  South,  and  sweeping,  as  its  tributary, 
the  blossom  and  fragrance  of  Italia's  garden,  Milan  should  not 
alone  be  spoken  of  for  its  Duomo  and  its  Arena,  its  Arch  and 
its  "  Last  Supper,"  by  De  Vinci ;  but  for  its  regal  magnificence 


280  LOMBARDYi—TUE  GARDEN  OF  THE   WORLD. 

and  commanding  prospects.  Lofty  houses,  elegant  court-yards 
and  fine  paves,  are  not  wanting  to  make  an  unbroken  perspec 
tive  of  grandeur  in  the  streets.  But  hold  !  miracle  of  wonder  ! 
what  is  that  tall  spire,  sculptured  and  entablatured,  rising  from 
forth  the  sea  of  stone,  "  how  silently,"  in  its  delicate  and  laby 
rinthine  magic  of  art !  Is  it  the  phantasm  of  a  dream,  or  the 
grotesque  illusion  of  the  clouds  ?  The  white  statues,  as  you  ap 
proach,  people  the  slender  pinnacles,  and  stand  within  the  marble 
niches.  This  unparalleled  Duomo  has  been  likened  to  a  river 
of  marble  shot  into  the  air  to  a  height  of  500  feet,  and  then 
suddenly  petrified  while  falling !  Surely  it  must  have  arisen 
like  an  exhalation  "  to  the  sound  of  dulcet  symphonies  and  voices 
sweet ;"  for  it  seems  of  the  very  air — airy  in  its  frozen  poetry. 

We  did  not  long  tarry  without.  We  entered  its  dark,  high 
nave,  branching  like  monster  trees  of  some  other  world ;  and 
uplifted  by  octagon  circular  columns,  so  high,  that  they  seem 
toppling  to  the  upraised  eye.  The  finest  stained  glass  windows, 
perhaps,  in  the  world,  beautify  the  darksome  aisles.  The  even 
ing  light  slowly  plays  through  every  colored  form  of  saint  and 
prophet,  flower  and  tracery. 

While  we  stand  spell-bound,  the  janitor,  who  spoke  bad 
English,  came  up  and  politely  offered  to  show  us  the  top.  After 
dropping  a  few  sous  for  the  church  at  the  portal,  we  wound  up  a 
spiral  inclined  plane,  and  within  the  magic  marble  mountain. 
We  are  soon  amid  the  mazes  above.  Solid  as  earth,  it  seems  a 
fairy  city  of  towers.  One  hundred  and  fifty-five  pinnacles  point 
upward ;  nearly  7,000  statues  glance  in  the  light,  while  niches 
stand  waiting  for  3,000  more !  Fifteen  thousand  different 
points  are  lifted  from  the  roofs — for  there  are  more  roofs  than 
one,  as  we  find  by  ascending  staircase  on  staircase.  Below  us. 
on  the  last  roof,  is  the  Botanic  Garden!  What!  is  Italy  so 
prodigal  of  its  verdure,  that  the  Cathedral's  top  should  bud  and 
blow  like  the  hanging  gardens  of  Old  Assyria  ?  It  is  only  the 
marble  which  has  sought,  through  genius  and  taste,  manifold 
forms  in  the  pointed  spires.  Fifteen  thousand  buds,  flowers  and 


LOMBARDY—THE  GARDEN  OF   THE   WORLD.  281 

fruits,  each  different,  bloom  perennially  amid  the  upper  air,  and 
that  without  irrigation  or  pruning. 

This  immense  pile,  an  imperfect  idea  of  which  may  be 
gathered  from  the  engraving,  has  been  centuries  in  completing. 
Napoleon,  whose  mind  was  ever  ready  to  build  monuments  to 
art  and  himself,  added  an  immense  addition.  Architects  have 
discussed  the  minutest  points  of  this  Duomo  in  lines  of  solid 
quarto.  Nearly  thirty  hundred  millions  of  francs  have  been  ex 
pended  upon  it.  An  edifice  as  large  as  Grace  Church,  New-York, 
is  upon  its  top  as  plainly  as  the  Pantheon  is  upon  St.  Peter's. 

The  view  from  it,  is  incomparably  fine.  The  eye  may  float 
over  the  scenery  of  Italy,  and  revel  in  its  fairest  bowers,  discern 
the  cities  around  for  forty  miles,  and  to  the  north  see  those 
everlasting  Alps,  which  lock  up  the  gateways  of  Europe.  The 
beautiful  hills  of  Como  and  Maggiore,  surrounding  the  magic 
mirrors  in  which  they  are  reflected  ;  the  Saint  Gothard  ;  farther 
west,  the  Simplon,  through  whose  defiles  we  expect  to  pass ;  the 
Monte  Rosa,  white  and  radiant,  except  at  sunset,  when  it  illus 
trates  its  name  in  the  sweetest  of  hues ;  Mount  Cenis,  to  the 
direct  west ;  and  further  around,  the  line  of  the  Apennines  ; 
and  to  the  southeast,  the  sweeping  vale  of  the  Po,  with  Cre- 
moni  and  Crema — all  can  be  viewed  from  this  lofty  spot !  What 
a  resplendent,  magnificent,  glorious  creation  is  ours  !  How 
full  of  beauty  and  sublimity !  Would  that  our  distant  friends 
could  behold  these  splendid  Alpine  temples  upon  the  north, 
from  this  marble  observatory,  and  the  great  pleasure-grounds 
which  lie  around  their  feet  in  such  luxuriance  of  vegetable  life  ! 

What  are  those  scaffoldings,  observable  as  we  descend,  erected 
far  up  to  the  topmost  rose  of  the  pinnacle  ?  We  are  informed 
by  the  custodian,  that  ten  men  are  constantly  employed  upon 
these  scaffolds  in  cleaning  the  building,  and  that  it  takes  them 
just  twelve  years  to  complete  the  circuit  outside. 

Can  it  be  that  the  Great  Father  of  all  is  pleased  with  such 
stately  structures,  erected  for  His  worship  ?  Does  He  delight 
rather  in  the  marbles  of  Italy,  than  the  rude  churches  of  our 


282  LOMBARDY^THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  WORLD. 

land  ?  Profitless  inquisition  ;  for  the  temple  of  His  love  is  the 
upright  heart  and  pure  ;  and  where  that  bows — whether  under 
swelling  dome  or  homely  altar — whether  under  the  light  of 
staindd  splendors,  or  under  the  white  radiance  of  an  open  sky, 
His  presence  appears  more  glorious  than  all  else  beside  in 
heaven,  or  in  earth  ! 

We  did  not  leave  Milan  without  a  drive  around  the  city. 
The  Milaners  were  still  to  be  seen  in  their  shops,  with  ribbons 
flaunting  at  the  windows,  and  waxen  images  within,  (horrible 
caricatures  !) — just  the  same  as  when  their  taste  gave  name  to 
the  large  class  who  now  wear  the  badge  of  MUaner.  We  visit 
ed  the  arch  of  Peace,  with  her  chariot  and  six  horses  upon  the 
top,  commenced  by  Napoleon,  as  an  arch  of  Victory ;  and  the 
great  arena,  where  mimic  naval  battles  were  fought  before 
Napoleon,  and  (the  ring  being  changed  into  a  more  solid 
element  by  secret  outlets)  gladiatorial  combats  followed.  From 
the  front  of  the  arena  is  seen  the  grand  Piazza  d'Armi,  where 
Bonaparte,  after  his  uninterrupted  successes  upon  those  gar 
den  spots,  against  the  hosts  of  Austria,  reviewed  his  Italian 
armies;  and  here,  too,  is  seen  the  castle  which  has  now  10,000 
Austrians  in  it,  and  the  Forum,  around  which  walks  are  ranged 
in  splendid  style. 

One  cannot  but  mark,  throughout  Italy,  that  suppressed 
veneration  for  the  memory  of  Napoleon,  which  speaks  more  of  a 
future,  than  any  other  element.  The  old  soldier  who  showed  us 
the  Arena,  seemed  full  to  the  brim  with  admiration  ;  but  he  ex 
pressed  it  in  the  eye  and  gesture,  rather  than  with  the  tongue. 

There  is  no  unity  of  place  regarded  in  the  chapters  of  the 
Traveller,  such  as  the  drama  demands,  so  that  I  have  liberty  to 
leap  from  the  Duomo  upon  the  boldest  wing,  into  the  clear  air, 
and  alight  upon  the  bosom  of  the  lake  of  Como.  Above  me  is 
a  circular  range  of  living  green,  speckled  with  white  palaces. 
Between  the  two  gateways,  wherein  the  Madonna  is  enshrined, 
small  red  steamers  ply  and  cleave  the  placid  waters.  An  old 
castle  with  broken  towers,  speaks  eloquently  of  a  feudal  time 


LOMBARDY,—THE  GARDEN  OF  THE    WORLD.  283 

from  a  forum  of  rock.  Boats  with  fagots,  manned  by  women,  are 
putting  into  port,  while  a  regiment  of  females  are  on  their  knees 
— washing  clothes  upon  the  stony  brink.  The  air  below  is  clear  ; 
but  the  green  mountains  have  lost  their  tops  in  a  cloud.  Music 
floats  across  the  lake  from  the  Austrian  fort,  and  every  thing  of 
beauty  is  here  to  fill  the  eye. 

How  tastefully  has  Nature  decorated  this  valley  of  Como 
with  landscapes  of  every  variety  of  soft  and  sweet  enchantment. 
Groves  of  myrtle  and  golden  fruitage  reflected  in  the  glassy 
water,  form  terraces  of  green  upon  perpendicular  strata.  Como 
city  seems  sunk  to  the  lake's  level,  in  its  setting  of  emerald, 
while  out  of  the  tower  of  the  city  there  merrily  rings  the  chime. 
By  rowing,  we  reach  a  point,  from  which  is  visible  the  extreme 
of  a  perspective  of  hill  after  hill,  dotted  with  shrines  of  wondrous 
charm,  erratic  granite  blocks,  (who  knows  whence  they  came  ?) 
and  white  villas.  Houses  cut  in  the  solid  rock  appear  high  and 
aloof  from  the  habitations  of  men.  Truly,  the  genius  of  Bulwer 
was  choice  and  rare,  to  a  sense  of  deliciousness,  when  he  made 
Claude  Melnotte  paint  in  fancy  for  the  proud  Pauline,  the 
"  Lady  of  Lyons,"  his  palace  of  alabaster,  and  groves,  of  myrtle 
amid  these  hills  and  this  lake  of  Como  ! 

Our  ride  to  Como  had  been  through  a  branch  of  the  same 
picture  gallery,  of  which  Monza,  the  ancient  capital  of  Lombardy, 
was  the  chief  view,  and  where  are  the  relics  of  Queen  Theolinda 
and  the  Lombard  crown  of  iron  once  worn  by  Charles  V.,  and 
placed  by  no  priestly  hand  on  the  brow  of  Napoleon. 

A  showery  rain  followed  us  across  to  Maggiore  ;  but  it  only 
served  to  spread  a  transparent  mist,  like  the  veil  we  saw  over 
the  face  of  a  marble  nun  in  Rome,  adorning  a  beauty  it  could 
not  conceal. 

We  slept  upon  the  shore  of  Maggiore  at  the  base  of  a  high 
dark  mountain,  unconscious  until  we  were  upon  the  lake,  of  its 
lofty  presence.  Levano  was  the  town  to  which  we  were  bound. 
Before  we  reached  it,  the  jagged  rocks,  indicating  our  proximity 
to  the  Alps,  gloomed  terrifically  black,  as  if  about  to  be  thunder- 


284  LOifBA&DYi—TBB  GARDEN  OF  THE   WOULD. 

riven.  Far  above  them  a  cloud  hung  its  white  linings  to  the 
eye,  which  curled  and  smoked  as  if  out  of  the  black  mountain, 
like  a  furnace  of  Inferno.  I  had  never  before  seen  such  sub 
limity  of  gloom  and  wildness.  If  these  are  but  the  shadows  of 
the  Alpine  feet,  what  is  the  lofty  head  ? 

We  are  leaving  the  Paradise  of  Italy  and  entering  the  rough 
and  broken  land  of  Switzerland.  The  pass  toward  the  Simplon 
was  clear,  an  index,  said  our  boatmen,  of  good  weather.  Lakes 
of  white  clouds  wave  between  great  mountain  heights.  Although 
we  cannot' see  distinctly  the  lofty  genii  who  guard  the  Simplon, 
yet  we  have  before  us  still  the  magic  of  Beauty.  The  Borromean 
isles,  owned  by  the  Count  Borromea,  float  in  the  crystal  of  Mag- 
giore.  Compelled  to  leave  Milan  with  other  noble  families,  on 
account  of  the  Revolution. of  1848,  when  he  hoped  to  unite  Italy 
in  one  grand  union  under  Charles  Albert,  he  has  sought  refuge 
in  his  Bella  Isola.  This  isle  looks  out  of  the  Piedmont  into 
the  Austrian  line,  near  the  shore,  where  an  Austrian  steamboat 
with  three  soldiers  marks  the  extremity  of  her  Italian  power. 

We  persuaded  our  boatmen  to  make  a  deflection  from  the  di 
rect  line,  so  as  to  run  around  these  isles.  The  first  one  is  a 
bower  of  trees,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  through  ;  birds  sing  in  it ;  an 
ivy-clad  house  appears,  then  a  vista,  showing  a  fine  residence  be 
yond.  Flowers  adorn  the  rocks  which  run  up  in  strata,  at  an 
angle  of  45  degrees  from  the  clear  water.  But  there  is  no  one 
stirring  at  this  early  hour.  Bella  next  appears,  and  well  deserv 
ing  the  name.  As  we  approach,  a  large  white  palace  appears  on 
the  right,  while  on  the  left  we  pass  a  yellow  octagonal  tower, 
whose  counterpart  is  on  the  other  side.  Between  them  rises 
a  pyramid  of  green  terraces,  decked  with  urns  of  flowers,  and 
surrounded  with  hundreds  of  figures  of  man  and  horse.  Stone 
railings  protect  the  rocky  barriers  of  the  isle.  Arched  grottoes, 
with  every  variety  of  tropical  flowers  and  fruits  growing  in  them, 
appear,  and  fill  the  air  with  a  delicious  aroma.  Ten  terraces 
there  are,  placed  upon  the  slaty  rock,  warmed  beneath  by 
fires  in  winter,  to  protect  these  tropical  flowers  from  the  frost, 


LOMBARDY,—TtfE  GARDEN  OF  THE   WORLD.  285 

which  even  in  summer  glistens  from  the  tops  of  the  mountains 
beyond.  Magnolias  in  full  bloom  find  sweet  multiplication  in 
the  wave  over  which  they  hang.  The  soil  upon  which  these  rare 
flowers  grow,  is  renewed  every  year  by  fresh  imports  from  Italy. 
At  the  extreme  end  of  the  isle,  there  live  about  two  hundred 
*  eople,  whose  residences  add  nothing  to  the  romance  of  the  spot. 
\  We  pass  the  Fisher's  isle,  out  of  which  the  chapel  bell 
ounds  ;  in  front  is  the  mount  whose  sides  have  been  wounded 
to  build  St.  Paul's  at  Rome.  The  Ticino  river  empties  the 
lake  into  the  Mediterranean,  with  its  freight  of  marble.  The 
water  of  the  lake  is  a  clear  green,  answering  to  the  emerald  hills. 
The  clouds  part  as  we  approach  the  shore,  disclosing  dark 
masses  of  mother  Earth,  like  Mahomet's  coffin  suspended  in  mid 
air.  The  mist  comes  down  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake,  as  we  land. 
Happily  we  have  seen  its  beauties,  and  escaped  its  unpleasant 
ness. 

Under  shadows  of  dark  mountains,  leading  gradually  up  to 
the  Alps  from.  Italy ;  along  immense  quarries  of  marble ;  across 
torrents  whose  madness  has  torn  away  the  bridges  of  the  Sim- 
plon  road ;  yet  ever  tending  upward,  we  reach  and  rest  at 
Domo  d'Ossolo — the  villa  at  the  foot  of  the  Simplon. 

How  gradually  have  we  passed  from  the  soft  loveliness  of 
Lombardy  to  the  grandeur  of  Maggiore,  and  now  to  the  rugged 
sublimity  of  the  Alps.  Doth  not  Nature,  in  these  scenes  of 
beauty  and  grandeur,  speak  warmly  and  closely  to  the  heart  of 
man  ?  Doth  she  not  "  astonish  him  with  her  magnitude,  appall 
him  with  her  darkness,  cheer  him  with  her  splendor  and  soothe 
him  with  her  harmony  ?"  GOD  gave  us  faculties  to  enjoy  these 
His  mountains  and  flowers,  torrents  and  tendrils,  fields  of  verdure 
and  of  snow,  lakes  of  crystal  surrounding  emerald  and  rocky 
islands.  Let  the  heart,  then,  bound  upward  to  His,  as  it  swells 
in  emotion  at  each  passing  glory  ! 

If  you  will  look  with  me  at  the  raised  globe  I  told  you  of 
in  the  Exhibition,  you  will  observe  a  general  elevation  in  the 
north  of  Italy,  indented  by  torrent  beds  and  peaked  with  snow 


286  LOMBARDY,—THE  GARDEN  OF  THE   WORLD 

points.  Upon  Lake  Maggiore  there  frowns  a  ridge  of  mountains, 
stretching  from  St.  Gothard,  in  the  south-east  of  Switzerland, 
following  the  Rhone  to  the  Simplon,  bending  at  Mount  Rosa, 
(what  a  hinge  is  Rosa !)  to  run  due  west  where  Mount  Cervin 
frowns — St.  Bernard  opens,  and  Blanc — "  every  inch  a  king " 
— rules  ever  with  his  superior  crown  of  snow,  upon  his  sunless 
throne  of  rocks.  The  Maritime  Alps,  under  the  command  of 
Mount  Cenis — a  brave  subject  of  Blanc — turn  south-westward, 
and  march  toward  France,  where  we  saw  their  white  plumes 
and  rough  spears,  as  we  journeyed  to  Marseilles  ;  and  then  nearly 
right  about,  down  the  coast  of  Italy,  where  they  meet  with  a 
heavy  fire  from  Vesuvius  and  Etna ;  tearing  them  asunder  at 
the  Straits  of  Messina,  which  thus  ends  their  career. 

But  we  have  now  to  do  with  but  one  of  the  great  gaps  which 
sportive  nature  has  made  in  the  chain — the  Simplon — which  we 
reserve  for  another  chapter. 


XXII. 


tossing  tjjB 

"In  the  mountains  he  doth  feel  his  faith, 
All  things  responsive  to  the  writing  there 
Breathed  immortality  -  -. 
There  littleness  is  not    The  least  of  things 
Seemed  Infinite." 

Wordsworth. 

FROM  the  highly  cultivated  and  sun-warmed  plains  of  Italy 
to  these  Alpine  peaks,  snow-covered  and  wind-beaten,  what 
a  change  ?  —  How  sudden  !  Can  it  be  real  ?  Yes  ;  for  the 
sough  of  the  wind  around  this  old  stone  auberge,  and  the  chilly 
air  without,  are  palpable  proofs  even  on  this  18th  of  July,  that 
we  are  upon  the  summit  of  the  Simplon,  where  winter  lives 
under  the  open  sky.  Besides,  — 

"Small,  busy  flames  play  through  the  fresh  laid  coals, 
And  their  faint  crackling  o'er  our  silence  creeps 
Like  whispers  of  the  household  gods  - 

Two  days  ago  and  these  fiery  appendages  would  have  been 
as  superfluous  as  painting  the  lily,  smoothing  ice,  or  describing 
to  one  who  had  seen  and  felt  them,  the  scenery  and  sensations 
which  have  followed  our  pathway  up  —  up  —  some  seven  thousand 
feet  above  ordinary  humanity  and  the  sea-level.  So  much  has 
been  written  of  these  passes  through  the  Alps  ;  so  much  that 
speaks  to  the  eye,  to  the  ear,  to  all  the  senses  ;  so  much  has 
been  told  in  every  variety  of  style,  by  every  variety  of  person, 
that  I  despair  of  uttering  any  thing  that  can  convey,  even  par 
tially,  an  adequate  idea  of  their  sublimities. 


288  CROSSING  THE  ALPS. 

These  Alpine  scenes  are  not  to  be  lightly  passed.  The 
impression  they  produce  is  not  a  theme  for  flimsy  rapture  or 
minute  analysis.  They  seem  born  of  the  GREAT  GOD,  and 
within  their  august  temples  His  presence  becomes  omnipotence, 
and  His  worship  holy  and  awful ! 

The  Simplon  road  is  named  after  the  snow-topped  mount 
just  above  our  hospice.  It  is  the  crowning  peak  of  the  pass. 
Over  the  pass  the  road  is  forty-five  miles.  It  took  six  years  to 
complete  it,  although  30.000  men  were  at  work.  It  has  611 
bridges,  in  addition  to  miles  of  solid  masonry.  It  is  twenty -five 
or  thirty  feet  wide.  The  road  was  built  by  Bonaparte,  and  is 
one  among  the  many  monuments,  other  than  warlike,  by  which 
his  name  will  be  heralded  to  posterity.  The  road  begins  prop 
erly  at  Milan  and  ends  at  Geneva.  It  is  magnificent  in  its 
construction,  and  stupendous  in  its  triumphs  over  the  rugged- 
ness  and  sinuosity  of  nature  in  her  wildest  and  loftiest  freaks. 
Where  does  not  this  road  wind  and  venture  1  Over  what  fear- 
inspiring  chasms  ;  between  what  deep  and  terrific  gorges  :  along 
what  jutting  and  blackened  granite,  ever  winding  up  through 
clouds,  through  cascades,  among  flowery  meadows,  along  pine 
forests,  until  surmounting  the  jagged  difficulties  of  the  way.  it 
leaves  vegetation,  yea.  even  the  hardy  lichen  below,  and  descends 
with  marble  pathway,  ever  guarded  at  intervals  with  granite 
posts,  into  the  valley  of  the  Rhone ! 

Leaving  behind  us  the  lovely  beauty  of  Lake  Como  ;  and 
the  grandeur  of  her  queenly  sister  Maggiore.  we  hurry  by  post 
to  Domo  D'Ossolo,  the  prominent  place  at  the  foot  of  the  Sim 
plon.  Before  reaching  it.  we  had  to  cross  by  ferry,  several  wild 
torrents,  where  bridges  had  once  been.  Upon  one  of  these 
ferries,  there  was  a  beautiful  specimen  of  a  chanticleer,  with  tiny 
bells  in  his  gills  and  his  comb  ;  who,  before  we  reached  the 
opposite  shore,  rung  his  bells,  crowed  joyously,  flapped  his  wings, 
and  cleared  the  space  between  boat  and  shore.  Perhaps  that 
was  his  custom.  I  did  not  inquire.  Our  courier,  Dominichino, 
was  here  at  home,  and  rattled  off  his  native  Piedmontese  idiom, 


VROSXISG  THE  ALPS.  289 

with  as  much  satisfaction  to  the  host  and  postillions  as  to  himself. 
The  Piedmontese  dislike  the  Austrians  exceedingly,  and  take 
every  occasion  to  show  their  contempt.  Our  republican  courier 
was  not  behind  in  the  national  aversion.  His  passport  arranged 
for  Geneva,  we  began  the  ascent. 

The  vale  of  Domo  D'Ossolo  was  soon  spread  out  beneath,  in 
its  verdurous  luxuriance,  with  mulberries  and  myrtles,  figs  and 
trellised   vines,  interspersed  with   lovely  lawns.     Suddenly  we 
pass  a  bridge,  and  behold"!  in  a  hollow  and  awful   abyss  below, 
the  torrent  thundering  in  white  spray  over  rocks — deep  down  in 
the  creviced  mountain  ! — Far  up  and  around  we  again  overlook 
the  chasm  and  bridge.     "We  turn  to  bid  farewell  to  Italy,  before 
we  trace  to  its  mountain  source  this  Alpine  torrent.     By  it.  we 
are  enabled  to  surmount  the  fastnesses  ;  for  its  waters  have  torn 
out  this  Simplon  pass.     The  bells  of  the  city,  ringing  clearly, 
echoed  from  mountain  to  mountain,  silverly.  sweetly  undulating 
in  rare  music,  until  they  fill  the  ear  with  harmony.     Blending 
the  meanwhile  therewith,  was  the  angry  undertone  of  the  tor 
rent   Douvernia.  making  its  way  insanely  and  violently  into  its 
bolder-strewn   bed  of  the  vale  :  while  far  up  and  on  every  side, 
the  slopes  and  perpendicular  sides  were  vivacious  with  cascades 
fretting  and  shining,  but  ever  singing.     We  have  had  rain  for 
several  days,  so  that  the  mountains  all  the  way  up  hither  were 
voiceful  and  nimble  with  fleecy  waterfalls  and  bouncing  cataracts. 
Out  of  cloud  and  out  of  chasm,  skipping  in  gleeful  bound,  dash 
ing  into  worn   holes,  and  leaping  upward  in  recoiling  grace,  to 
fall  back  hundreds  of  feet — .sliding  from  mountain  summit  adown 
smooth   marble   paths,  making  thus  exquisite  lace-work,  many- 
figured,  wide  and  flowing,  and  white  as  milk,  clear  as   air  and 
musical  as  flutes — these  fountain  spirits  seem  to  give  life  and 
activity  to  the  massive,  immovable,  shattered,  blackened,  heaven- 
reaching,  thunder-riven  Alps.     We  were  regretting,  during  our 
way  from  Como.  that  the  rain  cloud  was  constantly  over  us  ; 
but  after  the  sun  had  chased  it  away  this  morning,  and  we  found 
its  result  in  such  entrancing  and  soul-like  sounds, 
13 


290  CROSSING  THE  ALPS. 

'So  sweet  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  them, 

the  regret  was  absorbed  in  the  pervading  joyousness  and  har 
mony. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  my  mention  of  these  fountains 
and  cascades,  because  they  are  so  life-like.  They  peopled  the 
solitudes.  They  laughed  and  glittered  as  they  hung  to  the 
beetling  crags,  and  sung  in  harmony  with  the  greater  torrent, 
along  whose  bewildering  way  we  have,  been  winding  for  so  many 
hours. 

To  be  sure,  houses  and  people  have  not  been  wanting.  Hon 
est-looking  masons  were  repairing  the  road ;  women  with  pro 
tuberances  from  their  necks  plainly  telling  of  the  goitre, — 
beggar-boys  with  no  hands, — Piedmontese  soldiers  demanding 
passports, — postillions  in  glazed  hats  with  silver  band,  in  red- 
collared  coats  with  bobby  tails  to  them, — peasant  girls  washing 
clothes  in  the  torrent,  and  now  and  then,  a  white-dressed  chamois 
hunter,  looking  like  a  speck  of  snow  against  the  sides  of  the 
cliffs,  and  firing  away  at  Alpine  venison  in  embryo,  with  what 
success  we  could  not  see, — these  were  the  living  people  whom 
we  met  and  saw.  Farther  down,  the  peasants  were  gathering 
in  the  golden  grain  from  the  pleasant  vales  between  the  frowning 
mounts;  and  farther  up,  they  were  discernible,  clipping  the 
harvest  of  grass  even  upon  apparently  inaccessible  rocks,  and 
attending  the  cattle.  But  Nature,  not  man  and  his  puny  works, 
is  the  great  object  of  our  view.  How  insignificant  look  the 
habitations  of  men  here.  Pigeon-boxes  they  seem,  far  up  the 
perilous  slopes.  Nay,  what  are  the  grandest  exhibitions  of 
human  art  compared  to  that  immense  mountain  which  we  passed 
just  before  we  entered  the  first  Gallery.  Saint  Sophia,  the 
Duomo  of  Milan,  St.  Mark's,  Notre  Dame,  St.  Peter's— how 
minute,  atomic,  delicate,  are  ye  all,  compared  to  that  one 
-  moveless  pillar  of  a  mountain's  weight."  Cathedrals  may  be 
sliced  off  from  its  sides,  temples  taken  from  its  tops ;  but  its 
majestic  disproportionate  proportions,  many-shaped  minarets 


CROSSING  THE  ALPS.  291 

and  domes,  its  coliseums  and  temples,  its  every-shaped  struc 
tures  peaking  heavenward,  still  remain — the  same  for  ever. 

The  mountain  stream,  whose  valley  forms  the  important 
Simplon,  destroyed  eight  miles  of  the  road  in  1839.  Every 
bridge  of  stone  was  swept  away.  Avalanches  of  stones,  some 
huge  enough  to  form  islands,  upon  many  of  which  are  now  cul 
tivated  gardens,  and  into  many  of  which  men  have  carved  habi 
tations,  line  the  bed  of  the  stream.  They  are  scoured  white 
and  neat  by  the  crystal  cold  water.  Snow-drifts,  under  which 
arches  are  made  by  the  torrents,  lie  in  the  bed  of  the  stream, 
unmelted,  and  rivalling  the  frisky  cascades  in  their  pallid  hue. 
Galleries  are  made  at  points  along  the  road,  under  which  we 
pass  to  emerge  upon  fearful  heights  above  the  stream,  under 
other  imminent  craggy  heights,  jutting  far  over  our  heads. 

The  gallery  of  Gondo,  and  its  surrounding  scenery,  I  would 
select  as  a  specimen  of  the  majesty,  terror,  beauty,  vivacity, 
awfulness,  sublimity  and  glory  of  this  celebrated  pass.  Artists 
have  painted  it  upon  the  canvas,  engineers  have  discussed  it  in 
mathematical  equations,  poets  have  sung  of  its  manifold  scenes 
and  their  correspondent  emotions.  Dare  I  intrude  my  vagrant 
pen  in  such  goodly  company  ?  Just  from  the  sublime  spectacle, 
with  the  noise  of  its  cascades  still  murmuring  in  my  ear,  and 
the  glisten  of  its  sun-bright  snows  yet  dazzling  the  eye,  my 
description  may  have  the  merit  of  freshness,  if  not  any  wonder 
ful  fidelity  to  the  ineffable  original. 

The  Gorge  of  Gondo  is  some  fifteen  miles  from  Domo  D'Os- 
solo,  just  above  a  miserable  village  of  the  name  of  Gondo.  The 
torrent  Douveria  furnishes  a  narrow  but  artificial  bank  for  the 
road,  which,  winding  under  the  smooth  and  almost  treeless  sides 
of  the  mountain,  enters  the  gallery.  The  cut  is  596  feet  through 
the  solid  granite  mountain.  The  granite  was  so  hard,  and  the 
access  so  difficult,  that  it  required  the  incessant  labor  of  more 
than  one  hundred  men,  in  gangs  of  eight,  relieving  each  other, 
day  and  night,  to  pierce  it  through  in  eighteen  months  !  And 
those  side-galleries,  looking  out  upon  the  deep-seething  "  hell  of 


292  CROSSING  THE  ALPS. 

waters,"  far,  deeply  far,  below — how  think  ye  they  were  cut  ? 
The  miners  were  suspended  from  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
by  ropes,  until  they  carved  out  a  standing-place,  when,  simulta 
neously  with  the  other  miners,  they  formed  these  everlasting 
windows  over  the  gorge.  Opposite  one  of  the  windows  can  be 
read  the  inscription  that  tells  of  the  energy  which  set.  this  im 
mense  work  in  operation — "  ^ERE  ITALO  1805  :  NAP.  IMP." 

Close  to  this  yawning  cavern,  on  the  right,  there  leaps  out 
of  a  fissure  which  splits  the  mountain,  and  in  which  huge  rocks, 
shattered  and  dark,  lie  in  careless  sublimity,  the  torrent  of  Fras- 
cinnone ;  less  loud  and  hoarse  in  its  brawling  than  the  noisy 
Douveria,  into  which  it  empties,  after  splashing,  spraying  and 
fighting  under  us,  hundreds  of  feet  below  the  slender  bridge 
leading  into  the  gallery.     The  Douveria  itself,  across  which  one 
may  leap  at  this  point,  is  pressed  into  a  narrow  bed  by  the  per 
pendicular  rocks.     It  boils   in   mad,  pallid   fury,  at  its  stony 
imprisonment ;   and  at  last  bounds  upward,  and  dashing  into  a 
cavern  it  has  made,  finds  further  vent  in  indignant  eloquence, 
amidst  a  gigantic  auditory  of  boulders,  who  line  its  current  and 
cheer  its  impetuosity.     The  twin  snow-peaks  beyond  and  above 
the  gallery,  seen  between  the  perpendicular  walls,  seem  to  sleep 
in  quiet  majesty,  unmoved  and  frigid  spectators  of  the  scene. 
No  wonder  they  are  unmoved,  for  they  are  at  least  five  thousand 
feet  above  the  angry  roar  of  the  blended  cataracts.    The  savage, 
grim  horror  which  bristles  up  in  the  deep  gloom  of  the  abyss,  is 
only  equalled  by  the  precipitous  slate  walls  which,  as  high  up  as 
the  eye  can  see,  overhang  the  road.     The  torrent  is  squeezed 
into  the  narrow  chasm, — the  road  into  the  narrow  gorge,  which 
seeks  the  gallery  in  relief.      Scarcely  any  vegetation,  not  even 
the  pine,  clings  to  the  sides.    A  little  grass  here  and  there  peeps 
out  of  a  crevice.    The  black  figures  on  the  rock  are  written  over 
by  millions  of  white  specks,  and  imagination  could  easily  find 
forms  grotesque  to  image  forth  these  gigantic  drawings.     Shat 
tered   fragments,  loosened   from   the   mountains,  are  piled  all 
along,  where  a  foothold   may  be  had.     The  blue   sky,  with  a 


CROSSING  THE  ALPS.  293 

fleecy  cloud  floating  partly  over  it,  like  a  flag  from  the  peak,  is 
seen  up  through  the  gorge.  The  old  road,  which  once  passed 
here  on  the  other  side,  is  barely  discernible  by  the  terraced 
stones  lining  the  almost  perpendicular  side.  It  is  wholly  covered 
now.  Amid  this  roar  of  waters,  arid  this  immensity,  solitude, 
barrenness,  and  immovableness  of  granite  masses,  the  little 
arched  bridge  for  the  road  still  spans  the  gorge  ;  and  there  still 
winds  upward  the  Simplon.  with  its  marble  way.  The  work  of 
Man  thus  arises  superior  to  the  elements  in  their  most  terrific 
form.  Yet  these  masses  produce  a  stronger  impression  on  the 
mind,  than  Man,  with  his  infinitude  of  comprehension  !  In  the 
whirl  and  buzz,  the  tinsel  and  superficialities  of  life,  we  forget 
that  Man  is  a  nobler  substance  than  the  mountains,  and  more 
eternal  even  than  they  !  Their  eternity  is  but  the  fiction  of  the 
brain  ;  the  eternity  of  the  soul  is  a  truth  of  God  !  Yet,  in  these 
mountains,  one  may  best  learn  this  truth ;  and,  learning,  ascend 
in  view  of  its  snow-white  radiance,  "  seeking  ever  a  higher 
object."  Here  best  is  taught  that  reverence  which  the  Holy 
Word  demands,  and  which  Wordsworth,  in  the  verses  prefixed 
to  this  chapter,  so  feelingly  embodies. 

I  could  not  refrain  from  repeating  the  solemn  significance  of 
the  Bard  of  Rydal  Mount,  who  was  himself  accustomed,  like 
the  eagle,  to  leave  the  impurpled  hills  of  his  own  Cumberland, 
and  among  the  mountains  renew  at  evening  his  proud  communi 
cation  with  the  sun.  I  could  not  refrain,  when  gathering  the 
little  Alpine  flowers,  so  beautifully  delicate  in  petal  and  exquisite 
in  aroma,  so  nicely  stemmed  and  richly  tinted — from  pondering 
how  these  least  of  things  seemed  infinite.  Najr,  it  is  not  mere 
poetry.  Take  your  microscope  and  examine  that  world  of  germ 
and  flower  which,  analogous  to  the  out-budding  constellations,  is 
obeying  the  eternal  order  of  growth  ; — and  say,  is  there  not  an 
infinity  in  the  tender  petal  of  blue,  bedropt  with  gold  and  specked 
with  a  love-light,  growing  under  the  mountain's  shade  1  Come 
home  to  severe  science,  and  you  may  learn,  that  the  slightest 
alteration  in  the  force  of  gravity  which  pervades  the  universe, 


294  CROSSING   THE  ALPS. 

would  alter  the  position  of  that  blue  Alpine  flower,  peeping  be 
tween  its  rock-ribbed  home  up  to  its  kindred  azure.  An  earth, 
greater  or  smaller,  denser  or  rarer  in  the  least,  would  require  a 
change  in  the  structure  and  strength  of  the  stalks  of  every  flower. 
There  is  something  curious  in  considering  the  whole  mass  of  the 
earth  from  pole  to  pole,  from  the  centre  to  the  circumference,  as 
employed  in  keeping  that  blue  flower  bedropt  with  gold  in  its 
wild  position,  and  the  one  most  suitable  to  its  vegetable  health. 
If  science  thus  demonstrates  the  infinitude  of  the  relations  of 
these  tiny  flowers,  is  there  not  a  deep  significance  in  the  poetry 
of  Wordsworth,  that  "  littleness  is  not,  the  least  of  things  seems 
infinite  ?"  The  highest  poetry  and  the  severest  science  will  ever 
harmonize.  Induction  can  never  exhaust  Castalia's  fountain. 
Bacon  was  akin  to  Calliope,  and  Newton  enjoyed  her  deepest 
confidence.  Whewell  and  Wordsworth  both  agree,  that  in  the 
humblest  flower  of  the  vale  there  is  an  infinity  reposing  as  se 
renely  as  in  the  evolving  nebulae  of  the  creation's  bound  !  How  I 
love,  with  such  thoughts,  to  gather  these  little  azure  infinities. 
The  meadows  along  the  gushing  streams  are  covered  by  them. 
They  modestly  peep  up,  almost  with  a  shiver  at  the  Lapland 
tops  of  the  mountains.  They  seem  like  a  dream  of  spring  smil 
ing  around  the  icy  features  of  winter.  They  contest  the  palm 
of  beauty  with  the  sliding  and  spraying  cascades,  which  sporting 
around  the  chamois'  home  and  eagle's  nest,  leap  fearless  out  of 
cloud-land  upon  rock-land.  But  did  the  latter  lose  their  vivacious 
loveliness,  or  the  former  their  tender  beauty,  because  of  their 
frequent  occurrence  in  our  upward  path  ?  Ask  the  bird  of  song 
if  her  throat  loses,  its  sweetness  upon  that  fairy  isle  of  Maggiore, 
we  passed  yesterday,  although  her  song  is  ever  the  same  ?  Ask 
the  cloud  which  reflects  the  dyes  of  evening  over  the  Morea,  if 
its  glory  is  lost  in  the  soul,  because  the  same  glow  is  continually 
around  about  us  in  splendid  sun-settings  ? 

We  walk  most  of  the  way  up,  gathering  strawberries  as  we 
walk.  The  cold  air  rushes  down  the  valley  as  we  near  the  hos 
pice.  Winter  rules  here.  Hearken  !  how  the  wind  howls,  and 


CROSSING  THE  ALPS.  295 

the  windows  rattle  !  Seven  thousand  feet  up  in  the  earth's  at 
mosphere,  and  yet  so  many  other  peaks  above  us  !  Why,  I 
almost  tremble  for  our  earth's  orbit.  In  wheeling  around  upon 
its  soft  axle,  our  pensile  orb  is  in  danger,  with  such  tall  protube 
rances  into  the  sky.  Thank  Heaven  !  There  are  Andes,  Him- 
malehs  and  Alleghanies  to  balance  the  wheels,  and  make  our 
earth  dance  to  the  tune  of  gravity,  after  the  most  precise  method. 

Ah  !  it  was  good  to  get  to  the  Inn.  It  was  better  to  feel  the 
cheer  of  the  fire.  It  was  best  to  tickle  the  eager  palate  with 
mountain  trout  and  chamois  venison.  The  earth  earthy  will  at 
times  predominate.  Cascades  and  lofty  peaks  were  obliterated 
for  a  time,  to  play  and  pinnacle  again  in  this  poor  page.  All 
alone  I  sit  at  my  table.  My  companions  are  recruiting  them 
selves  by  sleep  for  the  morrow,  when  we  shall  run  down  in  three 
hours  to  Leuk,  thence  to  Martigny  and  the  Blanc.  Seven  hours 
is  occupied  in  the  ascent  to  this  half-way  spot. 

The  stars  glisten  in  the  windy  air  so  fitfully  bright ;  so 
cold  yet  lustrous.  Never  was  I  so  near  them  before  ;  never 
perhaps  shall  I  be  so  near  again ;  yet  with  all  the  sublimity  of 
these  mountains,  the  rolling  clusters  of  constellations  eclipse 
them  all,  even  as  Mont  Blanc  eclipses  an  Indian  mound  of  our 
own  valley.  The  bell  of  a  convent  near  sounds  wildly  strange 
at  this  hour  upon  this  height.  The  ghostly  white  mountains 
above  gleam  fearfully.  A  strange  shudder  comes  over  me,  at 
the  awful  immensity  of  barrenness  around.  Truly  has  Byron 
written  of  these  palaces  of  nature,  pinnacled  in  clouds,  throning 
eternity  in  their  icy  halls,  and  speeding  on  their  mission  of 
destruction  the  thunderbolt  of  snow : — 

u  All  that  expands  the  spirit,  yet  appalls, 
Gather  around  their  summits  as  to  show, 
How  Earth  may  soar  to  Heaven,  yet  leave  vain  man  below." 

How  bracing  is  this  upper  air.  Five  hours  of  rest  here  is 
^uivalcnt  to  ten  in  southern  Italy.  Midnight  closed  my  last 
paragraph  on  the  summit  of  the  Simplon.  A  few  hours  of  sleep, 


296  CROSSING  THE  ALPS. 

and  we  started  on  foot,  ahead  of  the  diligence,  over  the  regions 
of  uninhabited  desolation.     It  seemed  as  if  a  great  lake  had 
once  been  upon  this  mountain,  whose  sides  yet  loom  up  in  rug 
ged  grandeur.     We  passed  the  old  and  new  Hospices  erected 
for  the  safety  of  travellers — bid  the  monks  "  bon  jour,"  bought 
mountain  agates  from  the  younkers  on  the  mount,  were  over 
taken  by  the  rumbling  vehicle,  and  at  the  word  "  monte  !"  we  are 
in  the  coupe,  rattling  down  the  precipitous  descent,  overlooking 
valleys  where  the  distant  kine  jingle  their  bells,  and  where  the 
little  chalfits  are  espied  in  the  profound  distance ;  and  rushing 
through  galleries  of  safety,  serving  at  once  as  a  bridge  for  water 
falls  which  roar  over  and  under  us  and  then  plunge  sheer  into 
the  air,  and   at  the  same  time  as  a  guard  from  the  avalanches, 
whose  scarring  tracks  are  deeply  trenched  in  the  mountain  sides. 
These  galleries  are  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  but  drip  with  water  or 
glitter  with  icicles  like  a  grotto  with  stalactites.     The  pines  are 
perpetually  appearing  wherever  a  moss  fibre  can  crawl ;   and  flow 
ers — but  I  have  said  enough  of  them.     Nature  repeats  her  glo 
ries,  but   in  every  place  how  differently.     At  Boresa,  where  we 
stopped,  the  carol  of  the  bird  began  to  announce  the  vernal  re 
gion.     The  outside,  or  rather  the  top  of  the  diligence  became 
my  seat,  as  we  ran  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Rhone.     It  was 
a  fearful   seat  at  first.     There   were   so  many   and   such   short 
curves,  shaped  like  the  letter  S  in  the  road,  that  at  times  I  seem 
ed  about  to  be  dashed  with  the  diligence  over  precipices  2000  feet 
below,  where  torrents  roared  and  rocks  bristled.     Around  every 
point  the  downward  serpentine  of  the  road  wound,  cut  out  of  the 
sides   of  the   mountain,   and   absolutely   suspended   in   the   air. 
But  what  cared  the  driver  for  these  glorious  scenes  or  dangerous 
abysses  ?     Halloo  on,  old  glazed  cap  !     "  Hee  !  Hee  !     Yee-youp  ! 
Brabone  !  " — and  snap !  would  go  the  lash  at  the  lazy  leader  ! 
For  miles  we  wended  downward,  almost  encircling  Mount  Eglise, 
whose  five-and-twenty   peaks,  all   joined    in    one    Gothic    spire, 
towered  above  the  great  snow-fields  around,  and  pierced,  as  with 
a  wedge;  a  dense  cloud  which  seemed  enamored  of  its  untrod 
den  pinnacles. 


CROSSING  THE  ALPS.  297 

The  vale  of  Brieg  will  long  be  remembered  for  its  variety  of 
rural  beauty.  It  receives  us  as  we  run  down  the  mountains.  A 
magnificent  vale  it  is,  extending  down  the  Simplon  side  of  the 
mountains  across  the  Rhone,  whose  whitish  green  waters  rush 
over  a  bed  enamelled  with  clean  boulders,  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  see,  and  midway  up  the  Bernese  Alps.  The  drive  down  its 
valley  was  one  of  our  finest.  The  way  was  a  duplicate  of  sub 
limity — Vallais  frowning  upon  one  side  with  her  angry  moun 
tain  brows,  glistening  with  Rosa  and  Moro  ;  while  Berne  looked 
out  gloomily  from  the  Gemmi  gorge  at  Leuk,  so  famous  for  its 
baths,  and  the  immense  perpendicularity  of  its  mountain  scenery. 

Sion  we  reached  before  sunset.  Its  feudal  towers  rising  be 
fore  the  city,  revived  the  stories  of  barons  bold  and  ladies  fair ; 
while  in  the  city  we  found  the  warlike  people  crowding  around  a 
case  of  assault  and  battery,  with  two  soldiers  holding  a  man 
with  a  bloody  nose,  whom  two  loud-talking  Sionians  were  pum 
melling  under  the  soldiers'  eyes.  The  shadow  of  the  rural 
mountains  kissed  midway  in  the  valley  at  sundown,  and  unitedly 
followed  us  into  Martigny. 

The  fields  ajong  this  part  of  the  valley  are  mostly  worked  by 
women,  coarse,  robust,  and  gawky.  Nearly  every  peasant  woman 
has  the  swelling  at  the  throat,  known  as  the  goitre,  so  often  re 
ferred  to  by  travellers.  It  is  the  same  disgusting  execrescence 
which  Juvenal  refers  to  in  the  line — 

"  Quis  tumidum  guttur  miratur  in  Alpibus." 

The  swelling  is  of  the  thyroid  gland  or  the  parts  adjoining, 
which  grows  with  the  growth  of  the  person,  until,  as  in  some 
cases,  which  we  saw,  it  becomes  a  huge  bag,  covering  the 
breast,  and  rendering  the  person  unable  to  walk  under  the  bur 
den.  Various  discussions  as  to  its  cause,  have  not  as  yet  re 
sulted  in  a  remedy  for  the  effect.  The  best  sense  of  the  medi 
cal  profession  has  settled  down  upon  the  idea,  that  it  is  caused 
by  a  sort  of  malaria,  owing  to  the  confined  air  of  the  valleys,  in 
the  marshy  places.  Bad  as  it  is,  the  women  seem  to  care  little 
13* 


298  CROSSING  THE  ALPS. 

for  it.  It  is  not  nearly  so  disgusting  as  cretinism,  which,  from 
similar  causes,  prostrates  the  mind  and  deforms  the  body.  How 
sad,  that  in  such  sublime  and  wonderful  scenery,  where  physical 
Nature  displays  her  utmost  magnificence,  poor  human  nature 
should  be  degraded  and  ruined  by  such  a  mysterious  dispensa 
tion.  Thank  God  for  our  own  Ohio  plains  and  undulations  ! 
where,  if  the  ague  does  sometimes  abound,  it  does  not  deform 
the  body  and  shatter  the  mind  ! — But  one  can  hardly  wonder 
either  at  the  dispensation,  when  it  is  considered  to  what  a 
height  these  barriers  rise  above  the  low  valleys.  Disease  will 
creep  in,  where  the  pure  air  of  heaven  cannot  enter.  Why  !  in 
one  of  the  cantons  near  the  Lauterbrimnen,  which  we  passed,  there 
lived,  unknown  by  all  their  neighbors,  a  tribe  of  the  most  primi 
tive  heathens,  until  the  twelfth  century,  when  they  were  dis 
covered  by  some  daring  cragsman,  and-converted  to  Christianity 
by  the  good  Bishop  of  Constance  !  Could  there  be  found  a 
stronger  illustration  of  the  depths  of  these  valleys,  into  and  out  of 
which  even  human  curiosity  failed  to  find  its  way  ? 


XXIII. 

nir  in  B 


"  Mont  Blanc  is  the  monarch  of  mountains, 

They  crowned  him  long  ago, 
On  a  throne  of  rocks,  in  a  robe  of  clouds, 
With  his  diadem  of  snow." 

Byron's  Manfred. 

SUNDAY  morning  we  awoke  in  Martigny.  The  chimes  near 
our  windows  were  playing  —  I  verily  believe  —  a  waltz.  It 
sounded  so  spirited  and  jocund.  We  are  in  the  Catholic  canton 
of  Vallais.  and  of  course  every  body  goes  to  church.  The  women 
in  tidy  little  hats  surrounded  with  a  broad  silvered  ribbon,  and 
with  prayer-book  modestly  folded  in  white  handkerchief;  with 
their  high  waists  —  but  I  am  encroaching  upon  forbidden  ground  ! 
It  is  enough,  that  their  "  bon  jour,  monsieur"  —  every  where  given 
smilingly  and  sweetly,  to  say  nothing  of  their  Sunday  best 
attire  —  won  our  admiration.  The  smallest  urchin  made  his 
obeisance  to  the  stranger,  and  the  oldest  inhabitant  removed  his 
hat  and  bent  his  silvered  head  in  respectful  salutation.  How 
pleasant  to  meet  these  kind-hearted  Republicans.  God  bless 
these  descendants  of  Tell  !  The  English,  especially  Murray,  in 
his  guide-book,  have  maligned  the  Swiss,  most  infamously. 
There  is  more  true  manhood  and  breeding  in  these  simple-heart 
ed  people,  than  could  be  expressed  out  of  all  England,  if  she  lay 
under  the  Alps  for  a  century.  Go  to  !  Roast  beef,  go  to  ! 
Hurrah  for  your  Queen  and  spend  your  gold  ;  but  let  unosten 
tatious  simplicity  live  unlibelled  in  its  happy  valley. 

A  novel  mode  of  travel  awaited   us  at  Martigny.      Mont 
Blanc  must  be  seen  from  Chamouni,  and  the  Tete  Noirmust  be 


300  THROUGH  THE  TETE  NOIR 

passed.  Twenty  miles  inaccessible  to  the  carriage,  and  traver- 
sible  only  by  the  mule,  or  upon  foot,  must  be  overcome.  Our 
ladies  are  ready  upon  the  sure-footed  animals,  and  one  mule  is 
reserved  for  three  of  the  other  sex,  wherewith  to  ride  and  tie. 
A  Sabbath  day's  journey  to  the  greatest  temple  in  the  universe, 
with  Coleridge's  hymn  for  our  melody,  and  the  roaring  torrents 
for  our  diapason  ;  who  so  Puritanic  as  to  object  to  such  an  ex 
cursion  ?  Well,  we  have  a  goodly  calvacade  up  the  mountain. 
Thirteen  mules  besides  our  own  join  us,  and  on  we  go,  only 
stopping  at  the  cool  fountain  or  to  fill  our  basket  with  straw 
berries.  The  way  up  was  among  pleasant  apple  orchards,  and 
harvest  fields.  We  had  no  dangers  to  encounter,  or  gorges  to 
tremble  at ;  until  we  turned  abruptly  into  the  Tete  Noir,  or 
Black  Head !  Our  mules  then  began  to  measure  their  steps 
cautiously,  though  they  were  evidently  so  familiar  with  the  path 
as  not  to  "  snort  suspicion." 

The  passes  in  the  Alps  have  their  grades  of  sublimity,  terror, 
and  beauty.  The  Simplon  combines,  in  the  greatest  degree,  all 
these  qualities.  The  Splugen  and  the  Gemmi  have  more  of  ter 
ror.  The  Tete  Noir  is  deservedly  celebrated,  as  well  for  its 
wildness,  as  for  being  the  path  to  Mont  Blanc.  Within  its 
savage  gorges,  the  torrent  thunders  as  if  from  lowest  depths 
opening  to  devour.  Dr.  Cheever  considered  it  a  concentration, 
though  somewhat  in  miniature,  of  the  grand  features  of  the  Sim 
plon,  but  at  the  same  time  rich  and  beautiful  beyond  description. 
I  could  not  do  better  than  to  compress  its  scenery  into  the  pic 
ture  which  he  furnishes.  "  Abrupt  precipices  frowning  at  each 
other  across  the  way  like  black  thunder  clouds,  about  to  meet ; 
enormous  crags  overhanging  you  so  far,  that  you  tremble  to  pass 
under  them  ;  savage  cliffs  looking  down  upon  you,  and  watching 
you  on  the  other  side,  as  if  waiting  to  see  the  mountain  fall 
upon  you  ;  a  torrent  thundering  beneath  you,  masses  of  the 
richest  verdure  flung  in  wild  drapery  over  the  gorge  ;  galleries 
hewn  in  the  rock,  by  which  you  pass  the  angular  perpendicular 
cliffs,  as  in  rocky  hammocks  swung  in  air ;  villages  suspended 


TO  MONT  BLANC.  301 

above  you,  and  looking  sometimes  as  if  floating  in  the  clouds ; 
snowy  mountain  ridges  far  above  these  ;  clusters  of  chalets  al 
most  as  far  below  you,  with  the  tinkling  of  bells,  the  hum  of 
voices,  and  the  war  of  the  torrent,  fitfully  sweeping  up  to  you  on 
the  wind ;  these  are  the  combinations  presented  you  in  the  Tete 
Noir."  The  picture  is  not  exaggerated,  nor  unfaithful,  save  that 
we  found  but  one  gallery  in  the  pass. 

After  passing  a  rude  cross  erected  upon  a  fearful  part  of  the 
road,  to  commemorate  a  young  German  who  lost  his  life  there 
in  a  storm  by  the  falling  of  a  pine,  you  perceive  the  "  head,"  black 
and  bushy  with  pines,  rising  out  of  the  brown,  twisted,  craggy 
rocks.     Turning  toward  Chaniouni,  and  looking  across  the  vale, 
not  far  from   the  Auberge,  there  appears  a  mount,  less  perpen 
dicular,  but  higher  than  the  "  Tete,"  and  a  valley  deeper  !     I 
counted  seven  silver  cascades  playing  from  its  top,  separating 
and  uniting,  bursting  into  spray,  and  floating  in  the  air,  then 
joining  in  a  torrent.     I  could  liken  the  scene  to  none  other  than 
a  parliament  or  a  congress  of  cascades,  whose  speeches  were  all 
to  one  point — the  glory  of  the  pass.     One  like  an  oily-tongued 
persuader,  glides  smoothly  down  the   rock  without   splash   or 
spray,  and  gains  his  end  just  as  surely  as  the  showy  declaimer 
who  raves  and  stamps,  and  tears  a  passion  to  tatters.     Another 
spreads  out  his  oratory  in  fine  threads,  every  interruption  fret 
ting  him  into  new  points  of  grace  and  beauty,  but  uniting  at  the 
base  in  a  torrent  full  and  free,  while  his  cogent  neighbor,  with 
continuity  and  unbrokenness  of  column,  falls  with  all  his  force 
in  one  master  apothegm  upon  the  thread  of  his  theme ;  and  so 
they  speak  from  their  lofty  tribune,  illustrating  their  eloquence 
with  flowers  of  sweetness,  and  rocks  of  truth.     A  villa  of  an 
hundred  chalets  listens  demurely  to  their  debate,  and  the  torrent 
below  unanimously  carries  the  question  down  the  vale  with  a 
glad  shout  of  triumph.     Well,  metaphor  will  run  mad  in  such  a 
scene ;  so  do  not  criticise  my  consistency.     I  wrote  it  on  the 
spot,  and  give  it  as  I  wrote  ;  interrupted  now  and  then  by  the 
rapture  of  a  lady-companion,  who  was  filling  her  basket  with 


302  THROUGH  THE  TETE  NOIR 

flowers,  and  the  shout  of  a  gentleman,  who  had  found  high  up  in 
the  rocks  a  Chamois  nest  (?)  made  of  moss. 

But  why  wreak  one's  thoughts  upon  expression,  where  there 
is  so  much  to  paint,  and  where  words  are  not  mountains,  nor 
cascades,  nor  even  the  pictures  of  them  ?  The  monster  back  of 
that  rock,  breaking  the  vale  in  twain,  but  smiling  in  its  shaggy 
grandeur  with  gardens  along  its  sides,  and  lashed  everlastingly 
by  a  torrent,  at  which  it  also  smiles — where  is  the  palette  of  wordy 
colors  to  paint  that?  Soon,  through  a  perspective  of  snowy 
mounts,  Mont  Blanc,  monarch  of  them  all,  lifts  on  high  his 
blanched  head.  The  view  at  first  disappointed  me.  We  were 
ourselves  so  high,  that  his  16,000  feet  dwindled  to  half  of  that. 
The  azure  sky  was  unclouded,  and  the  vast  Gothic  granite 
needles  that  pierce  it  around  the  monarch,  were  well  defined  and 
sharp.  Far  ahead  of  our  party,  I  ran  down  through  the  Rouge 
and  Verd  mounts,  leaving  the  Col  de  Balme  behind — down- 
down — down — DOWN — past  cattle  feeding  in  the  shadows  which 
were  creeping  up  the  mountains  on  the  east,  and  at  last  into  the 
vale  of  Chamouni,  with  its  lofty  line  of  sublimities  on  either 
side.  I  knew  the  Arve — the  bold  brawler  from  the  clouds  and 
ice  peaks,  born  amid  thunder  and  storm,  hastening  by  the 
humble  cots  from  steep  to  steep, 

"Till  mingling  with  the  mighty  Rhone 
It  rests  beneath  Geneva's  walls." 

The  Mer  de  Glace,  and  its  outlet,  the  Glacier  de  Bois,  hung 
over  the  vale  under  the  everlasting  pinnacles,  threatening  in 
aspect,  while  out  of  its  hollow  ice  halls,  rolled  the  "  five  wild 
torrents  fiercely  glad,"  which  join  to  form  the  Aveiron.  The 
vale  lies  north  and  south.  The  evening  sun  has  left  the  valley, 
but  lingers  in  a  faint  pink  upon  the  great  ice  and  snow  fields  of 
the  monarch's  head.  The  village  of  Chamouni,  a  pretty  place 
enough,  seems  but  a  handful  in  these  immensities  of  matter. 
Long  after  the  shadows  of  night  hung  darkling  over  its  roofs, 
the  white  light  played  on  the  top  of  the  mountains.  Perpetual 


TO  MONT  BLANC.  303 

layers  of  eternal  whiteness,  untracked  and  untainted  by  mortal 
tread,  catch  the  last,  and  will  gleam  with  the  first  light  of 
heaven.  The  mind  becomes  oppressed  with  an  overpowering 
sense  of  sublimity.  There  is  the  Hierarchy  of  Nature  minister 
ing  between  heaven  and  earth,  in  long  white  robes  flowing  down 
the  enormous  ravines,  with  a  solemn  silence  which  rebukes  the 
noisy  torrents  at  its  feet,  and  the  roar  of  the  wavy  pines  midway 
up  its  sides.  Dread  ambassador  !  what  a  ministration  between 
the  Finite  and  Infinite  is  thine  !  Pomp  of  earthly  kings  ! — how 
puerile  and  tame  is  your  magnificence  ! 

It  is  only  a  mighty  mind  like  that  of  Coleridge,  that  could 
grasp  and  give  expression  to  the  spirit  of  this  vale.  I  have 
read  that  he  never  visited  this  spot.  It  cannot  be  true.  His 
hymn  is  the  true  worship  of  his  lofty  soul,  uplifted  through 
tears  into  this  sublime  serenity. 

Raptures  and  exclamations  are  impotent  and  tame ;  the  only 
style  which  befits  the  solemn  significance  of  the  scene  at  Cha- 
mouni,  is  that  of  the  prophet  who,  wrapped  in  his  mantle,  bowed 
to  the  '  still  small  voice'  in  awe. 

As  I  write  now,  the  peaks  and  falls,  glaciers  and  gorges, 
which  surround  me,  have  become  familiar  in  name  and  position ; 
but  the  spirit  of  the  scene  who  can  exhaust  ?  Who  can  analyze 
its  glories  ?  Other  travellers  have  essayed  to  do  it  as  well  be 
neath  its  shadow  as  upon  the  distant  points  of  view.  It  is  only 
to  be  felt  by  being  seen.  As  I  gazed  upon  it,  while  the  day  was 
departing,  the  lofty  wish  of  the  poet,  seemed  full  of  new  mean 
ing,  when  he  prayed  that  he  might  grow  more  bright  from  com 
merce  with  the  sun,  at  the  approach  of  all  involving  night. 
And  forgetful  of  the  dear  ones  at  home, — remembered  ever 
upon  all  other  occasions, — the  wish  started  to  the  light,  that 
here,  beneath  these  hoar,  high  peaks  of  God's  own  majesty,  we 
would  love  to  live,  and  live  to  love,  and  at  last  sleep  in  the  '  all 
involving  night'  of  death,  among  the  blossoms  and  flowers  of 
this  lovely  vale. 

I  would  like  to  take  you  up  one  more  ascent — the  Montan- 


304  THROUGH  THE  TETE  KOIR. 

vert,  which  we  ascended  by  mules,  and  from  which  the  best  view 
is  to  be  had  of  the  great  granite  peaks,  and  from  which  you 
may  descend  upon  the  Mer  de  Glace.  Two  hours  and  a  half 
brought  us  to  the  Pavilion — a  toilsome,  rocky  way,  but  ren 
dered  pleasant  by  the  cool  milk  and  and  rich  strawberries  which 
the  bright-eyed  girls  of  the  mountain  offer  us,  at  different  points 
in  the  ascent.  After  a  rest  and  a  dish  of  strawberries,  we  de 
scended  upon  the  most  wonderful  phenomena  of  the  Alps,  the 
glacier.  This  glacier  is  the  largest  in  the  world,  it  being  forty- 
five  miles  long,  and  in  some  places  three  wide.  It  was  over  a 
mile  wide  at  the  point  where  we  were  upon  its  moving  mass. 
Rumble  !  crash  !  crack  !  boom  !  went  the  ice,  as  a  huge  granite 
rock  in  the  midst  tumbled  into  the  cavernous  profound.  Hoarse 
and  sepulchral,  sharp  and  ear-piercing  is  the  sound.  Dare  we 
venture  upon  the  living  sea, — peaked,  hollow,  roaring,  trickling 
with  water,  quivering  with  life,  and  bursting  its  icy  fetters  ? 
Before  we  venture,  let  us  take  one  view  of  the  magnificent  spec 
tacle,  embosomed  beneath  in  the  vale,  which  is  surroundtd  by 
the  mounts  and  snow-peaks  ;  pass  not  slightly  over  the  minute 
beauties  which  are  painted  in  the  plain,  with  their  coverlets  of 
verdurous  squares,  triangular  harvest-fields  of  yellow,  mingled 
with  the  freshly  plowed  ground,  lying  between  the  belt  of  trees 
fringing  the  Arve  and  Aveiron,  which,  like  two  white  ribbons 
inwrought  with  silver,  dart  with  bright  points  of  flashing,  until 
they  mingle  to  rave  ceaselessly  at  the  base  of  Blanc.  These 
spots  of  rural  beauty  depend  upon  the  melting  glacier  which 
feeds  perpetual  streams  of  irrigation.  Do  you  ask  why  God 
hath  placed  the  glacier  here  ?  Seek  an  answer  in  the  well-filled 
granary  and  happy  faces  of  the  peasantry. 


XXIV. 


"  He  has  seen  the  hoar 


Glaciers  of  bleak  Mont  Blanc,  both  far  and  near, 
And  in  Chamouni  heard  the  thunder-hills  of  fear.' 


COULD  you  elevate  your  mental  telescope  sowewhat  loftily, 
and  turn  it  hitherward,  you  would  perceive  the  Author  in  a 
situation  at  once  extraordinary  and  peculiar.  I  do  not  know, 
but  that  my  position  is  high  enough  to  obviate  the  intervention 
of  the  '  thick  rotundity '  of  the  world,  and  the  considerable  dis 
tance  between  Ohio  and  Chamouni.  I  sit  upon  a  granite  boulder, 
in  a  sea  of  ice,  called  the  Mer  de  Glace.  My  prospect  in  front 
is  the  great  cathedral  pinnacle  of  Dru ;  the  point  of  Verdi, 
the  highest  of  the  needles,  is  in  the  rear ;  that  of  Bouchard  is 
on  the  left,  and  on  the  right  is  the  grand  Horach,  hid  in  snow  ; 
next  to  it  is  Charmoz,  partly  snow-covered.  These  points  en 
viron  the  glacier-bed  with  their  spiry,  rocky,  snowy  needles, 
rising  out  of  the  frigid  green  sea,  jagged,  terrific,  and  sublime  ! 
We  seize  our  Alpenstock,  shod  with  iron,  and  under  the  lead 
of  our  excellent  guides,  who  take  charge  of  the  ladies,  we  enter 
upon  the  icy  bed  even  to  its  midst,  and  look  down  into  some  of 
the  wildest  gorges  of  the  glacier,  which  shine  with  beautiful 
greenish  blue.  These  gorges  are  deep  and  hollow.  Within 
them  the  torrent's  voice  roars  madly.  Our  guides  threw  large 
rocks  into  the  chasm,  and  we  stood  breathless,  listening  to  the 
reverberations  beneath.  Great  granite  rocks  are  upon  the  ice 
bergs,  and  as  the  glacier  moves,  now  and  then  they  tumble  into 
the  gorges  with  thundering  echo.  The  sound  of  the  torrent 


306  THE  ICE-SEA. 

and  the  progress  of  the  immense  mass  make  the  place  one  of 
thrilling  interest.  Upon  the  opposite  shore,  under  the  peaks, 
there  rise  green  pine  forests,  out  of  a  sea  of  frost ;  and  over 
head,  there  float  white  clouds,  like  celestial  navies  sailing  from 
point  to  point  in  the  upper  air.  Surely  this  is  the  perfection  of 
wild  and  gloomy  desolation — overpowering  and  strange  as  a 
nether  and  an  upper  world,  united  in  wild  phantasy. 

"  What  a  dear  little  flower  I  have  found  just  here  upon  the 
edge  of  the  glacier ;  a  little  pink  moss,  or  star-flower.  Only 
look  at  it  !" — breaks  in  a  musical  treble  near  by. 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,  Madame  ;  I  am  catching  a  likeness  of 
Desolation  himself  in  his  own  home  ?" 

No  wonder  the  Aveiron  roars  with  such  a  perpetuity  of 
music  and  continuity  of  stream,  fed  by  such  an  interminable 
waste  of  ever  trickling,  but  never  melted  ice.  No  wonder  that 
the— 

"  Rose  d'Alp  ?"  inquires  the  same  treble,  upon  the  brink  of 
the  ice-sea,  where  its  owner  is  plucking  flowerets  of  most  deli 
cate  hue  and  form. 

"  Oui,  Madame,"  says  the  good  guide  ;  "  il  commence  a 
fleurir." 

"  What's  that  mean,  Dominichino  ?  What  kind  of  a  flower 
does  the  guide  call  it  ?" 

':  It  is  not  a  flower  yet,  Madame.  It's  a  begging  to  come 
out."  Quite  a  poetical  idea  ! 

"  Ah  !  a  bud — yes,  yes.     How  exquisite  !" 

See  those  other  immense  glaciers,  high  and  away  up  the  sea, 
miles  off,  branching  out  of  the  Mer,  and  each  having  its  own 
great  sluices.  Hark  !  far  up  in  their  dreary  profundities,  the 
armies  of  ice  are  cannonading  with  sharp  and  thundering  din  ! 

"  Come  !  come  !"  They  are  hallooing  to  us  from  above ! 
"  Let  us  go  to  the  Englishman's  rock  !" 

I  cannot  resist  such  persuasiveness  ;  so  picking  up  my  ink 
horn  and  journal,  and  wondering  how  the  poor  fellow  felt  who 
fell  into  one  of  the  icy  gulfs  and  came  out  below  in  the  torrent, 


THE  ICE-bEA.  307 

I  left,  to  see  the  now  broken  granite  rocks,  under  whose  shelter 
Pococke  and  Windham,  the  first  English  adventurers  into  this 
valley  in  1741,  slept;  and  which  has  since  then  been  moving 
down  the  ravine,  "  sloping  amain,"  at  the  rate  of  one  foot  per 
day,  sweeping  an  immense  moraine  of  granite  and  earth  along. 

There  is  so  much  of  the  terrific  and  the  peculiar  connected 
with  this  Alpine  phenomenon,  that  much  scientific  observation 
has  been  given  to  it.  The  deductions  of  scientific  men  are  as 
remarkable  as  they  are  interesting,  in  relation  to  the  origin, 
movement,  former  existence  and  effect  of  glaciers.  The  best 
information  I  can  obtain  is  the  following.  It  contains  the  eclec 
ticism  of  the  subject : 

The  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  when  its  fused  granitic  mass 
rose  up  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  was  for  some  time  as  bare 
as  are  the  wasted  peaks  of  the  Aiguilles  which  surround  it. 
The  heat  gradually  subsided,  an  immense  quantity  of  snow  be 
gan  to  fall,  as  it  now  does,  on  the  elevated  rocks  and  valleys. 
In  the  highest  regions,  where  rain  is  unknown,  evaporation,  pro 
ceeding  from  the  extreme  dryness  of  the  atmosphere,  causes 
these  flakes  to  descend  in  particles  somewhat  resembling  hail, 
whose  loose  dry  grains,  heaped  on  each  other,  are  incoherent  and 
form  what  is  termed  the  neve.  A  great  part  of  this  is  swept  down 
on  the  lower  stages  of  the  mountain  by  those  impetuous  currents 
of  air  which  almost  constantly  reign  at  great  heights,  at  other 
times  snow  containing  some  portion  of  moisture  is  whirled  up 
across  the  summit  from  the  lower  and  warmer  regions ;  during 
summer  the  solar  rays,  not  having  yet  lost  their  calorific  inten 
sity  by  descent  through  the  atmosphere,  act  with  extraordinary 
force,  avalanches  are  detached,  and  the  moisture  caused  by  the 
direct  action  of  the  heat  on  the  exterior,  as  well  as  that  arising 
from  clouds  which  at  times  envelope  the  summit,  is  speedily  ab 
sorbed  by  the  remainder  of  the  porous  mass.  To  this  succeeds 
nightly  congelation  and  expansion,  so  that  the  neve  descending 
gradually  from  this,  combined  with  other  causes,  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  low  glacier,  forms  the  reservoir  of  those  vast  ice 


308  THE  ICE-SEA. 

streams  which  glide  into  the  upper  valleys  of  the  Alps.  Suc 
cessive  falls  of  snow,  their  thaws  and  congelations,  are  therefore 
the  undoubted  origin  of  the  first  glaciers. 

Their  movement  is  very  differently  explained.  De  Saussure 
attributes  it  to  gravitation,  which  is  improbable,  because,  if  pres 
sure  at  ergo  were  the  sole  cause,  the  entire  body  would  slide 
down  into  the  plains  with  gradually  accelerated  velocity.  De 
Charpentier  and  Agassiz  are  partisans  of  the  dilatation  theory, 
supposing  that  daily  thaw,  constantly  succeeded  in  the  whole 
body  by  night  frosts  and  expansion,  causes  the  forward  motion. 
This  is  refuted  by  the  ascertained  fact  that  congelation  does 
not  every  where  and  always  take  place  throughout  the  glacier, 
for  the  cold,  except  at  its  edges  and  thinner  parts,  penetrates 
no  farther  than  into  the  earth  when  covered  by  a  mantle  of 
snow.  Nocturnal  cold  merely  suffices  to  dry  up  the  streamlets 
at  the  exterior  during  summer,  and  the  constant  wasting  of  the 
glacier  during  that  season  proves'  that  frost  does  not  then  ex 
ercise  a  dilating  effect.  While  the  prolonged  winter  season 
continues,  it  of  course  reaches  a  greater  depth,  but  if  entirely 
dependent  on  alternate  thaw  and  frost  the  whole  body  would 
then  freeze  hard  and  not  move  at  all. 

Whoever  examines  the  composition  of  the  glacier  will  rea 
dily  perceive  it  to  be  an  eminently  fragile  body  composed  of  a 
porous  and  plastic  ice,  different  from  that  which  forms  on  the 
surface  of  lakes  and  rivers.  The  manner  in  which  it  moulds 
and  adapts  itself  to  every  bend  and  corner  of  a  rocky  valley 
proves  its  ductility.  It  is  in  short  a  semi-solid  or  viscous  com 
position,  urged  downwards  by  its  own  weight  and  a  mutual 
pressure  of  its  coherent  parts.  The  mass  is  detached  from  its 
bed  of  rock  by  the  subterranean  heat  of  the  globe,  the  infiltra 
tion  of  rain-water,  and  of  the  moisture  produced  by  exterior 
thaw.  Being  the  outlet  of  the  winter  world  it  is  fed  in  the  upper 
regions  by  dilatation  of  the  neve,  the  descent  of  avalanches,  and 
by  snow  swept  down  on  it  from  the  summits. 

Thus  urged   onwards,  the  daily  waste  below  is  replaced  by 


THE  ICE- SEA.  309 

daily  descent  from  above.  Crevasses  proceed  from  forcible 
separations  caused  by  inequalities  of  the  rock,  its  occasional 
swells,  or  abrupt  descents,  over  which  the  viscous  or  half  rigid 
mass  strains  forward.  When  an  obstacle  occurs,  the  glacier 
becomes  transversely  rent,  its  lower  portion  is  separated,  and 
proceeds,  the  fissure  gradually  enlarging,  until  closed  up  by  pres 
sure  behind  or  accumulation  of  ice  debris,  to  form  afresh  if  the 
cause  is  renewed.  Though  the  identical  ice  of  which  they,  or 
the  deep  gully  holes  often  seen  on  the  glacier  are  composed,  may, 
after  a  lapse  of  time,  have  advanced  some  hundred  feet,  the  rents 
and  fissures  will  always  be  found  at  the  same  spot  like  the  eddies 
and  deep  pools  in  particular  parts  of  a  stream.  Local  confor 
mations  mould  the  ice  ;  its  centre  advances  more  rapidly  than 
the  sides  which  it  drags  along ;  its  upper  surface  more  than  the 
under  one  ;  the  lower  end  more  than  the  source  or  reservoir. 
The  velocity  is  checked  by  cold  but  augmented  by  sunshine, 
thaw,  or  rain.  The  forward  movement,  through  perpetual  night 
and  day,  is  irregular,  and  much  greater  in  spring  than  summer, 
in  summer  than  in  autumn  and  winter.  During  the  hot  season 
the  glacier  wastes  away  in  all  its  parts ;  during  winter  it  is  ex 
panded  upwards  by  frost  and  agglomeration  to  its  former  level, 
and,  the  progress  being  retarded,  all  its  parts  crowd  together. 

The  abrasion  of  the  diamond  and  the  force  of  the  lever  give 
to  the  glacier  an  immense  power.  Hence  the  stupendous  rocks 
found  in  places  where  no  other  agency  could  have  borne  them. 
Evidences  are  numerous  in  the  vale  of  Chamouni,  of  this  very 
glacier  having  torn  away  great  portions  of  the  mountain,  and 
filled  the  vale  to  the  height  of  five  hundred  feet  or  more. 
Indeed,  when  we  consider  the  effect  of  this  silent,  slow,  but 
resistless  messenger  from  above,  the  fact  that  it  overthrows  or 
surmounts  almost  every  opposition,  and  that  a  very  slight  de 
pression  of  the  present  temperature  of  the  earth  would  cause  its 
increase  ad  infinitum,  we  must  admit  that  such  a  mighty  instru 
ment  may  prove,  in  the  hands  of  Providence,  an  agent  more 
destructive  of  our  globe  than  fire  or  water,  since  no  effort  can 
arrest,  no  obstacle  prevent  or  divert  its  awful  progress. 


310  THE  ICE-SEA. 

Ascending  the  Pavilion,  we  may  discuss  over  a  little  Alp  of 
strawberries,  blanched  with  sugar,  which  quickly  disappears  under 
the  keenness  of  the  appetite — the  science  of  this  immense  sea, 
more  at  leisure.  While  eating,  however,  I  opened  the  register, 
and  found  that  Montanvert  had  proved  a  Parnassus  to  some 
genius  incognitos,  who  poured  forth  his  sentiment  right  happily 
in  the  following 

SONG  OF  THE  MER  DE  GLACE. 

"There  ne'er  was  seen,  on  earth  I  ween, 

A  fairer  sun  than  shone 
On  our  Alpine  pass  of  the  Mer  de  Glace 
This  fourteenth  day  of  June. 

"  Our  feet  have  pressed  the  snowy  crest 

Of  these  wild  waves  deep  and  strange, 
On  whose  strength  of  rock,  writes  the  whirlwind's  shock 
Scarce  the  shadow  of  a  change. 

"  And  the  mountains  to-day,  as  they  have  alway 

Since  time  began  to  be, 
With  reverend  head  guard  the  royal  bed 
Of  that  sleeping  silver  sea. 

"  And  while  ages  fail,  they'll  tell  the  tale 
To  years — Time's  laurels  winning, — 
Of  ages  that  sleep  in  the  awful  deep 
Beyond  the  great    '  Beginning.' " 

"  Truly,"  says  an  annotation,  "  we  forgot  it  was  July — 

'  Which,  remembered  in  time, 
Would  have  spoiled  the  rhyme.'  " 

Other  bards  celebrate  their  drizzling  days  in  Jeremiads  and 
dripping  lines,  but  there  was  no  piece  which  struck  me  as  worthy 
of  a  transcript,  except  the  above. 

We  descended  rapidly  the  great  highway — my  mule,  like  a 
gallant  soldier,  ever  preferring  the  post  of  danger,  and  always 
provokingly  hanging  his  ears  over  the  most  awful  chasms,  and 


THE  ICE- SEA.  31 1 

eating  grass  just  where  one  feared  to  be  toppled  headlong  into 
the  awful  gorges.  But  it  is  great,  to  be  high  and  aloof  from  the 
world  and  its  vexations.  For  a  lawyer  to  be  7.000  feet  high,  it 
is  almost  Paradise.  No  judge,  jury  or  sheriff;  no  special  plead 
ing  or  demurring  (save  that  of  the  mule)  away  up  here.  Chitty 
has  no  Precedent  for  the  Dru ;  and  Tidd,  in  all  his  "  Practice." 
never  drew  so  complex,  yet  so  simple,  a  declaration  as  Mont 
Blanc  draws  against  the  serene  azure.  Never  was  I  so  near  the 
great  high  Chancery,  where  all  things  are  tested  by  the  con 
science,  and  not  by  the  letter  merely. 

We  bade  adieu  to  Mont  Blanc  on  Tuesday,  to  see  his  radiant 
face  again  from  St.  Martin's  bridge,  upon  the  road  to  Geneva, 
where  it  was  said  that  one  of  the  finest  views  could  be  had  of 
him  and  his  chain.  St.  Martin's  is  twelve  miles  from  Mont 
Blanc.  As  you  look  up  the  valley  of  the  furious  Arve,  there 
arises  the  Mount  Foreclaze,  covered  with  pines  and  pasturage ; 
over  these,  the  needles  point  around  the  Mer  de  Glace,  and 
mingling  with  them,  are  the  snow  tops,  consisting  of  great  fields, 
which  centuries  have  been  piling,  and  which  branch  down  the 
ravines  in  moving  glaciers.  The  black  pines  gloom  along  the 
twelve  mile  perspective.  It  has  been  raining ;  the  clouds  are 
heavy,  and  hang  around  the  mounts  in  variegated  and  wild 
gloominess.  A  great  terraced  point,  swelling  upward  in  culti 
vation,  is  upon  our  right,  across  the  vale,  while  a  stupendous 
castellated  temple  is  upon  our  left.  The  birds  sing,  and  the 
Arve  roars.  The  mighty  spirit  of  the  spectacle  glides  along  the 
walled  ridges,  and  enters  the  soul,  bedewing  it  with  '  thanks  and 
mute  ecstasy.'  Nature  has  many  thoughts  encased  within,  and 
flowing  from,  these  rocky  mounts,  to  be  pondered  with  profit  and 
delight.  The  reader  who  has  not  had  the  advantage  of  realizing 
the  beauty  and  immensity  of  an  Alpine  scene,  should  at  least 
turn  back  to  our  frontispiece,  in  which  the  talented  artist,  Hin- 
shelwood,  of  New- York,  has  re-pictured  to  our  memory  the 
sublime  view  of  Mont  Blanc  from  St.  Martin's  bridge.  The 
engraving  is  from  a  drawing  upon  the  spot,  and  faithfully  fol- 


312  WE  ICE-SEA. 

lows  the  hand  of  the  great  original.  With  such  a  pictured 
view,  further  description  would  be  supererogation.  The  road  to 
Geneva  is  alive  with  cascades  of  every  variety  of  beauty  ;  and  it 
towers  up  with  castellated  mountains,  into  whose  hearts  large 
grottoes  open.  The  fountain  of  Palerines,  where  there  is  a  re 
coil  in  a  parabolic  curve  of  sixty  feet,  cannot  be  forgotten. 

We  passed,  on  going  around  a  mountain,  the  exquisite  cas 
cade  of  Chede.  The  first  jet  is  round  and  full,  falling  upon  a 
rocky  terrace,  midway,  where  it  divides  into  two  other  cascades, 
forming  the  shape  of  a  heart,  leaving  a  black  rock  within  its  sil 
ver  setting.  I  cannot  convey  by  language,  nor  by  comparison, 
any  adequate  idea  of  the  beauty  of  these  cascades.  We  find 
them  leaping  like  spirits  from  heaven  out  of  clouds  upon  ever 
lasting  rocks,  and  detaining  the  eye  with  their  grace,  and  the 
ear  with  their  melody. 

The  cascade  Nant  d'  Arpenaz  was  a  joy  for  ever.  Leav 
ing  our  char,  and  bidding  our  courier  and  driver  await,  we 
wended  our  way  over  the  meadows  to  its  base.  I  leaped 
from  rock  to  rock,  until  I  sat  under  its  spray,  upon  a  boul 
der,  my  feet  dangling  amid  flowers  of  loveliest  blue.  If  you 
can  imagine  one  of  our  ordinary  Buckeye  hills,  say  two  hun 
dred  feet  high,  suddenly  monstered  into  one  of  a  thousand 
feet ;  one  side  perpendicular,  with  rocks  standing  on  a  horizontal 
basis  ;  the  middle  point  arching  in  great  curved  strata,  and  the 
other  side  an  immense  castellated  mountain,  which,  unlike  the 
other  mounts,  seemed  serene  amidst  the  primeval  fire  which  once 
wildly  interfused  and  intertwisted  the  granite  ledges,  you  may 
have  a  faint  idea  of  the  mountain  source  of  this  cascade.  All 
along  are  the  results  of  the  elder  fires,  scathing,  melting,  tear 
ing,  convulsing  the  mighty  ribs  of  earth,  and  pitching  them  in 
defiance  of  heaven  at  its  very  portal ;  but  this  great  castle- 
mount  seems  rather  to  have  grown,  so  close  and  systematic  is  its 
gigantic  masonry.  Out  of  its  arched  granite  heart  there  bursts  a 
volume  of  whitest  water,  written  full  of  beauteous  characters, 
illuminated  with  prisms,  fleecy  as  a  nun's  veil  in  the  air,  and 


THE  ICE-SEA.  313 

buoyed  up  like  powdery  snow-flakes !  So  long  is  it  in  falling,  that 
its  points  shoot  out  and  burst  like  little  rockets  or  miniature 
comets,  with  a  nucleus  and  a  streamer ;  or  rather  like  the  whit 
est  steam  puffs,  curling  and  evanishing.  The  column,  before  it 
falls,  bespreads  itself  wide  and  thin,  but  gathers  into  point  be 
low,  where  in  a  torrent  it  plays  among  rocks  down  the  distance 
of  thirty  feet,  then  leaps  in  full  column  into  a  seething  basin  of 
hollow  profundity,  which  roars  and  boils  furiously. 

The  mind  cannot  find  imagery  for  so  beautiful  an  object, 
dashing  out  of  so  swelling  an  arch  in  so  wild  a  spot.  One 
likened  it  to  a  plume  ;  another  to  a  white  pennon,  floating 
feathery  ;  another  to  Love,  smiling  in  Hope  and  singing  on  the 
bosom  of  Might.  Cheever  likens  it,  or  a  similar  fountain,  to 
the  fall  of  Divine  grace  into  the  Christian  heart.  Liken  it  to 
what  you  will,  its  serene  undertone  sung,  and  will  ever  sing  to 
the  soul  of  Memory — a  radiant  living  thing  amidst  terrific  im- 
movableness.  I  leaped  from  rock  to  rock,  plucked  some  flowers 
at  its  feet,  felt  its  music  thrill  the  heart,  and  was  soon  off  again 
amidst  the  castles  in  the  air,  real  and  palpable,  which  line  this 
Genevan  road. 

In  the  town  of  Bonneville,  we  saw  a  monument  to  a  prince 
Carlo  Felici,  erected  to  his  memory,  because  he — dammed  the 
town  (the  old  sinner  !)  to  protect  it  against  the  torrent  Arve 
which  rushes  along  the  valley. 

With  what  trembling  anxiety  we  approached  Geneva,  those 
only  can  tell  who  have  been  pilgrims  for  two  months  or  more, 
without  a  word  from  home.  At  Geneva  were  our  letters.  The 
scenes  grew  less  attractive  as  we  neared  the  rural  city.  What 
chances  and  changes  there  had  been  among  loved  ones,  we  almost 
feared  to  know.  We  hoped,  oh !  how  earnestly,  that  all  were  well 
and  living  as  we  left  them.  Can  they  be  all  well  and  living?  Vain 
inquiry  !  Is  not  such  a  mournful  blindness  a  part  of  that  kind 
Providence,  which  is  ever  training  the  soul  to  rely  upon  the 
Almighty  Word  ?  Is  it  not  a  part  of  the  lesson  which  GOD 
gives,  to  the  weak  and  inconstant  in  faith  ? 
14 


314  THE  ICE-SEA. 

With  hearts  painfully  tremulous,  we  broke  the  seals,  to  find, 
alas  !  that  one  household  near  to  us,  was  deprived  of  its  happy 
children — that  one  hearth  was  no  longer  vocal  with  the  merry 
twattling  and  play  of  the  meek-eyed  little  ones.  May  God  mer 
cifully  guard  the  living,  is  the  prayer  we  waft  from  this  home 
of  Calvin,  to  our  own  dear  Ohio  ! 


XXY. 

9tt  miii  rtrotitA 


"The  Ehone  by  Leman's  waters  washed, 

Where  mingled,  yet  separate,  appears 
The  river  from  the  lake,  all  bluely  dashed 
Through  the  serene  and  placid  glassy  deep." 

Byron. 

is  so  much  impressed,  almost  simultaneously,  upon 
-L  the  mind  in  these  mountain  regions,  that  it  staggers  under 
the  confused  mass,  in  the  very  intoxication  of  bewilderment. 
One  should  have  a  subtle  and  pliant  pen  to  picture,  imperfectly 
even,  these  vicissitudes  of  sublimity  and  beauty  upon  lake  and 
river,  hill  and  mountain.  At  one  time,  you  are  called  to  view 
a  place  so  desolate  and  wild,  that  you  would  think  it  was  created 
for  the  last  of  human  mould.  Again  you  slide  down  almost  in 
sensibly  into  the  loveliest  pastures,  by  the  most  beautiful  brooks, 
surrounded  by  the  home-endearing  chalets,  the  fragrance  of  new 
mown  hay,  and  flowers  of  every  hue.  Again  you  shudder  under 
imminent  craggy  heights,  to  gaze  at  which  almost  takes  away 
your  breath  ;  to  emerge  upon  a  shore  like  that  of  Leman,  whose 
pure  water  under  the  sun-ray,  gleams  like  a  bluish  gem  set  in 
emerald,  and  sparkles  with  a  light  more  diamond-like  than  even 
the  bay  at  Naples,  while  its  shelving  green  lawns,  or  vine-terraced 
margins,  rise  under  an  atmosphere  of  beauty  where  love  loved  to 
linger,  and  yet  lingers  in  the  pages  of  Rousseau,  and  the  poetry 
of  Byron.  You  have  heard  of  Mont  Blanc  being  seen  sixty  miles 
from  the  spot  where  he  rears  his  high  head,  and  being  reflected 
in  clear  placid  Leman  lake  near  Geneva's  walls  at  that  distance : 
have  you  not  ?  Were  you  now  at  my  window  at  this  hour  of 


316  IN  AND  ABOUND   GENEVA. 

sunrise,  you  might  well  wonder,  start  and  adore,  at  the  revela 
tion  of  splendors,  dazzling  and  soul-entrancing,  playing  against 
the  immovable  masses  of  snow  and  ice  which  gild  the  sides  and 
glitter  in  the  crown  of  Blanc.  Could  my  Buckeye  reader  look 
westward  from  Zanesville,  and  see  an  elevation  of  16.000  feet, 
surrounded  by  others  a  few  thousand  less,  through  a  perspective 
of  mountains  snow-blanched  and  pine-clad,  robed  everlastingly, 
and  all  so  solemn,  so  still,  so  sublime— rising  out  of  Columbus, 
and  glaring  down  plainly  to  the  eye;  he  would  wonder,  if  this 
be  our  common  world — would  he  not  1 

But  too  much  of  the  descriptive  wearies.     You  would  prefer 
to  hear  of  these  republican  cantons ;  how  they  sustain  the  lone 
banner   (for   France   can  hardly  be   called  republican  as  yet), 
amidst  the  serried  and  surrounding  ranks  of  absolutism.     We 
Americans  are  apt  to  think  Switzerland  a  place  of  little  conse 
quence—so  deeply  hid  in  the  mountains  that  she  cannot  permeate 
Europe  with  any  influence.     We  think  of  her  as  under  a  great 
shadow,  cast  out  from  communication  with  the  <  rest  of  mankind.' 
Only  enter  Geneva,  ride  up  the  Lake  Leman,  whose  banks  are 
bedecked  with  homes  of  simple  elegance,  and  through  Yaud  and 
Berne,  whose  fields  are  alive  with  the  results  of  industry,  and 
there  will  be  found  a  civilization  ripe  and  advanced,  by  no  means 
circumscribed  to  the  chalet  of  the  peasant,  or  the  hut  of  the  cow 
herd.     Wherever  government  assures  man  that  he  may  enjoy 
the  fruits  of  his  labor,  as  it  does  here,  where  every  one  is  indus 
trious,  comfort,  arid  even   elegance,  will  reign.     How  different 
are  the  people  here  from  those  in  the  south  or  middle  of  Italy. 
Here  industry  toils  for  ever,  yet  in  perfect  contentment.     There 
is  not  the  ostentatious  gayety  which  dances  under  the  festal  gar 
lands  or  surrounds  the  bedizened  altars  of  the  streets  of  Naples ; 
but  there  is  a  quiet,  substantial  air  of  happiness,  such  as  Gold 
smith  pictured  in  his  <  Traveller,'  when,  from  one  of  these  moun 
tain  summits,  he  surveyed  mankind  in  search  of  the  true  philo 
sophy  of  life.     Whether  it  be  the  tidy  peasant  girl  in  her  white 
bodice,  partly  hid  in  dark  velvet,  knitting  at  dusk  in  the  door 


IN  AND  AROUND   GENEVA.  317 

of  the  cottage  ;  whether  it  be  the  elderly  dame  who  rears  her 
top-knot  of  black  gauze  in  the  form  of  a  cap  of  Elizabethan  style, 
bidding  you,  with  a  smile,  good-day  ;  whether  you  are  saluted  in 
French  or  German,  by  Catholic  or  Protestant,  whether  by  the 
cordial  inn-keeper  or  the  obliging  vetturino-driver, — there  is  the 
same  blandness  of  manner  and  kindness  of  spirit  manifested  and 
felt. 

It  would  repay  us  but  little  to  travel  without  seeing  some 
thing  besides  material  prospects.  It  is  well  to  see  the  spirit  of 
the  people,  in  their  every-day  life  and  conversation.  More 
glorious  than  snow-clad  mounts,  more  harmonious  than  cascades, 
rises  the  soul  of  a  people,  informed  with  the  true  feeling  of  con 
tentment,  and  conscious  of  their  individual  independence.  This 
is  our  impression  of  the  Swiss.  When  we.  saw  inscribed  over 
the  quaint  portal  which  led  us  into  the  confederation  hall  at 
Geneva,  "  The  children  of  Tell  shall  ever  be  blessed  !"  when  we 
saw  the  simple  and  unostentatious  places  for  the  meeting  of  the 
people  and  for  the  deposit  of  their  suffrages  ;  when  we  saw  in 
their  manly  air  the  idea  of  personal  liberty,  embodied  and  ex 
pressed  ;  when  we  looked  upon  the  cultivated  landscape,  and 
into  the  busy  workshops,  then  we  felt  that  we  were  not  in 
a  land  which  is  under  the  dominion  of  irresponsible  powers, 
but  breathing  the  air  of  republicans,  who  have  an  account  with 
God.  truth,  and  their  country  ;  and  we  felt  too  that  there  was  a 
strange  remissness  on  the  part  of  the  American  Republic,  in 
not  providing  an  ambassador  to  this  mountain  sisterhood  of 
states,  whose  presence  and  countenance  should  shine  as  an  en 
couragement  and  a  hope  to  the  people  amid  the  surrounding 
tyrannies.  But  when  we  listened  to  the  lofty  spirituality  of 
D'Aubigne,  the  Homer  to  Luther,  who  was  the  Achilles  of  the 
Reformation  ;  when  we  walked  with  him  along  the  grassy  marge 
of  the  placid  lake,  where  he  resides,  and  saw  in  his  soul  the  re 
flection  of  the  mountain  thoughts  which  towered  above  the 
ordinary  level  of  life's  experience  :  when  we  caught  the  deep 
meaning  which  beamed  from  his  expressive  eye,  as  he  talked  ot 


318  IN  AND  AROUND   GENEVA. 

the  Church  and  State,  of  the  relations  of  the  former  to  the  lat 
ter,  and  of  the  abuses  which  spring  from  their  union  ;  when  he 
spoke  of  Truth  as  superior  to  Protestantism,  we  felt  that  there 
was  yet  in  Switzerland  a  something  more  excellent  than  all  the 
hierarchies  of  the  South  and  East,  and  even  grander  than  the 
republicanism  of  the  mass.  I  wondered  not  that  Switzerland 
was  a  republic,  and  that  from  her  emanated  such  powerful 
spiritual  influences.  Here,  where  John  Knox  lived,  after  being 
banished  by  a  Stuart ;  here,  where  the  Regicides,  or  many  of 
them,  lived  after  the  Restoration ;  here,  where  our  Puritanism 
imbibed  its  austere  spirit  of  personal  accountability,  there  lives 
in  as  noble  forms  as  when  Farel  preached.  (Ecolampadius  rea 
soned,  or  Calvin  and  Zwingle  taught  and  ruled,  the  genuine 
spirit  which  ever  protests  against  absorbing  the  individual  in 
the  State  or  in  the  hierarchy.  Dr.  Malan,  and  Merle  D'Au- 
bigne  are  the  truest  embodiment  of  this  spirit  living  ;  and  that 
too  without  the  intolerance  which  stained  the  name  of  Calvin, 
or  the  love  of  secular  power  which  now  weakens  the  Protestant 
Church  as  at  present  connected  with  the  State  in  Geneva. 

It  seemed  as  if  we  were  coming  home  when  we  started  for 
Geneva.  Here  were  our  letters,  and  here  were  some  friends  to 
whom  I  had  the  kindest  introductory  letters  from  a  classmate, 
who  had  sought  in  Geneva  the  fountain-head  of  Calvinism,  and  while 
quaffing  its  waters,  had  plucked  an  Alpine  flower  (a  daughter  of 
the  celebrated  Dr.  Malan),  and  had  borne  it  to  America,  where  I 
saw  him  with  his  brid<«,  full  happy,  at  New  Brunswick.  To  them 
we  were  indebted  for  so  cordial  a  greeting  from  the  venerable 
Doctor  and  his  talented  family. 

Dr.  Malan  is  one  of  the  leaders  of  Protestantism  in  Europe, 
which  has  always  found  its  front  and  lead  in  Geneva,  I  would 
refer  the  curious  reader  to  Dr.  Cheever  for  an  animated  and 
glowing  eulogy  upon  his  amiable  character.  It  is  not  over 
wrought.  How  kind  is  his  mien,  with  his  bright  eye  and  elastic 
step  (though  he  is  eighty),  and  flowing  white  hair.  He  seems 
like  one  of  the  Evangelists  returned  to  earth.  Since  1810,  he 
has  been  a  noble  soldier  amid  the  most  trying  crosses. 


IN  AND  AROUND   GENEVA.  319 

But  most  I  enjoyed  my  visit  to  Dr.  Merle  D'Aubigne,  author 
of  the  History  of  the  Reformation.  His  residence  is  upon  the 
shores  of  clear  placid  Leman,  which  wooed  Byron  to  '  leave 
life's  troubled  waters  for  a  purer  spring ' — in  vain.  Our  con 
versation  was  prolonged  for  more  than  an  hour,  walking  (as  is 
the  hospitable  custom  here)  under  the  shade-trees  which  line 
the  water  of  the  blue  lake.  He  is  like  Dr.  Wayland  in  feature, 
in  energy  of  speech,  and  in  character.  There  is  such  a  pure 
spirituality  in  his  presence,  such  a  light  of  intelligence  beaming 
in  his  black  eye,  under  his  long  eye-brow,  such  a  persuasiveness 
in  his  pure,  though  not  perfectly  pronounced  English,  that  I 
listened  with  thrilling  delight  to  his  earnest  conversation,  as  if 
it  were  an  hour  to  be  embalmed  for  ever.  In  speaking  of  the 
East,  and  the  God-forsaken  aspect  of  the  old  and  favorite  land 
of  Deity,  he  changed  his  mournful  tone  into  one  of  living  energy 
as  he  said,  "  But — the  Spirit  of  Almighty  God  knows  no  locality  ! 
For  well  saith  Luther,  (how  he  loves  to  quote  the  hero  of  his 
history,)  they  who  do  not  cherish  the  seed  when  it  is  sown  in 
their  midst,  it  must — must  die  out.  God  ordains  it !"  Re 
gretfully  I  left  these  choice  men  of  the  Protestant  world,  to 
feel,  if  not  to  see,  their  shadowy  contrast  at  Ferney,  where  we 
visited  the  house,  tomb,  and  old  elm  tree  of  Voltaire.  We 
walked  down  the  green  arbor  of  beech  (it  is  nearly  300  yards 
long),  where  the  Infidel  shrivelled  and  sneered,  as  he  dictated 
his  godless  sentiments  to  his  secretary.  The  arbor  commands 
the  view  of  Mont  Blanc  and  his  range.  The  house  is  being  re 
paired,  arid  the  relics  of  Voltaire  removed.  The  church  he 
erected  over  his  tomb,  is  now — a  carriage  house  ! 

How  infinite  in  its  influence  is  the  intellectual  power 
which  clustered  in  former  times  around  Lake  Leman.  Not  alone 
that  infernal  satanic  sneer  which  lived  on  the  lip  and  flashed  in 
the  antitheses  of  the  arch  infidel  of  Ferney ;  not  alone  the  attract 
ive  sentimentality  and  social  principles  which  were  the  seed  of 
the  French  Revolution,  and  which  filled  the  novels  and  imprint 
ed  the  '  Social  contract '  of  Rousseau,  whose  home,  where  he  lived 


320  IN  AND  AROUND  GENEVA. 

with  Madame  De  Warens  at  the  head  of  the  lake  /iear  Vevay, 
we  saw ;  not  alone  the  learned  and  philosophic  influence  of  Gib 
bon,  who,  amid  the  green  bowers  which  shade  the  city  of  Lau 
sanne,  and  along  the  delicious  margin  of  the  lake,  turned  over 
pages  of  Latin  which  none  but  the  schoolmen  of  the  middle  ages 
had  read,  in  order  to  write  the  decline  of  the  Roman  power,  and 
to  array  his  immense  stores  against  the  holiest  of  Religions ; 
not  alone,  these  elements  of  Revolution,  Godliness,  and  Anarchy  ; 
but,  thank  God  !  the  elements  of  construction  and  inspiration, 
more  lasting  than  tomes  of  learning,  more  beautiful  than  senti 
ment,  all  invincible  to  satire,  were  here — mirrored  in  thy  crystal 
waters,  Oh  Leman,  even  as  Mont  Blanc,  with  his  summit  of 
purity  high  reaching  into  heaven,  is  there  reflected.  Here  was 
nursed  and  cultured  that  Puritanism,  which  was  the  chief  cause 
of  the  American  Revolution.  Here  that  Protestantism  grew 
which  shook  the  Vatican ;  and  here  still,  with  Malan,  Gaussen 
and  D'Aubigne,  grows  the  spirit  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  which, 
purer  than  that  of  Calvin,  seeks  to  sever  the  State  from  the 
Church,  and  will  never  be  ensanguined  with  the  blood  of  a  Ser- 
vetus.  Whole  nations,  constitutions,  and  revolutions,  had  their 
germs  planted  by  the  intellects  who  studied,  wrote,  and  lived 
upon  these  beautiful  shores. 

We  saw  the  house  of  John  Calvin  in  Geneva,  which  (strange 
mutation  !)  now  overlooks  the  theatre,  which  he  so  despised,  and 
an  ice-cream  saloon,  which  in  defiance  of  his  sumptuary  laws 
rises  under  his  window.  If  the  Genevese  have  not  the  stern  re 
ligion  of  their  ancestors,  yet,  as  Dr.  Malan  remarked,  God  is 
shaking  the  sieve,  and  pearls  are  appearing,  not  mere  Protestants, 
but  true  men. 

Madame  de  Stiiel  at  Coppet  found  a  congenial  place,  and 
even  yet  it  speaks  of  the  taste  and  elegance  of  the  author  of 
Corinne.  We  walked  down  its  leafy  promenades  by  its  bub 
bling  brooks,  around  its  time-honored  Chateau,  and  even  around 
the  chapel  where  beside  her  father,  the  ill  starred  Minister,  M. 
Neckar,  her  dust  reposes.  What  a  magnificent  woman  was  she  ! 


IN  AND  ABOUND  GENEVA.  321 

What  a  cotemporary  of  Napoleon !  The  widow  of  Baron  de 
Stael,  one  of  her  descendants,  lives  in  the  Chateau.  She  was  in 
Paris,  and  the  building  was  in  process  of  repair. 

Geneva  and  its  beautiful  environs  constitute  a  complete  rural 
city.  Owing  to  its  rurality,  it  scarcely  seems  circumscribed,  as 
far  up  as  the  Castle  of  Chillon,  out  of  whose  gloomy  prison 
Byron  evoked  such  a  genius  of  poetry,  or  bounded  by  the  Jura 
upon  the  one  side  answering  the  Alps  on  the  other. 

"While  at  Geneva,  we  drove  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  junction  of 
the   Arve    and    Rhone,  which    Dr.    Cheever  vaunts   upon   the 
tallest  stilts  of  his  style.     It  was  a  very  great  disappointment. 
The  furious  Arve,  which  we  had  heard  in  the  depths  of  the 
gorges,  and  which  roared  at  the  base  of  Blanc,  timidly  creeps 
along  without  mingling  with  the  Rhone,  which  is  a  different 
river  from  that  which  empties  its  mud  into  Leman,  in  this,  that 
it  darts  away  clear  and  blue.     It  is  an  entire  misnomer  to  call 
this  'the  Rhone.     How  can  any  one  discover  the  muddy  moun 
tain  elf  in  the  aerial  sylph  which  glides  through  Lake  Leman. 
It  is  owing  to  the  presence  of  iodine,  as  Sir  Humphrey  Davy 
thought,  that  Leman  is  indebted  for  its  poetical  azure  so  trans 
parently  beautiful.     Our  ride  up  the  Lake  was  in  a  little  steam 
boat,  which  stopped  at  each  village  upon  the  banks.     Mountain 
scenes  still  hung  in  the  distant  air,  almost  forgotten  amidst  the 
profusion  of  beauty  which  Art,  the  handmaiden  of  Nature,  has 
strewn  along  the  shore.    Como  has  a  half  wild  and  rocky  beauty ; 
Maggiore  is  still  wilder,  answering  as  a  preface  to  the  Alps ; 
Leman  has  all  the  softness  and  finish  of  loveliness.     She  is 
Beauty  adorned,  and  wearing  the  adornment  with  a  natural 
ness  that  Rousseau  knew  how  to  paint,  and  Byron,  even  in  his 
roughest  temper,  to  feel. 

At  the  head  of  the  Lake,  near  Vevay,  the  great  St.  Bernard 
shone  in  his  cloud  and  snow  garments,  with  a  noble  mien  and  a 
halo  encircling  his  brow,  bespeaking  the  first  in  command  under 
Blanc  !  He  rules  the  plains  of  Italy,  as  well  as  those  of  Swit 
zerland,  when  the  Monarch  retires  within  his  pavilion  of  clouds. 
14* 


322  IN  AND  AROUND  GENEVA. 

A  curious  bass-relief  is  that  upon  the  Cathedral  at  Fribourg, 
which  represents  St.  Peter  and  the  Devil  winnowing  mankind 
from  their  several  thrones.  The  latter  personage  also  appears 
with  a  hog's  head  and  a  big  basket  on  his  back,  chock  full  of 
sinners,  whom  he  is  turning  into  a  seething  caldron,  stirred  up 
by  imps,  and  into  a  crocodile's  mouth,  opening  wide.  Again 
there  is  a  pair  of  scales  held  up,  with  souls  in  it,  and  an  imp 
hanging  to  one  side,  to  make  it  kick  the  beam  in  favor  of  perdi 
tion.  Surely  John  Bunyan  has  a  rival  in  allegory  in  this  artist. 
Rough  in  execution,  it  may  be  ;  but  more  expression  than  I  can 
tell.  Yet  not  more  curious  than  the  clock  we  saw  to-day  at 
Berne.  Who  would  not  have  laughed  to  have  seen  us,  with  a 
dozen  other  travellers,  German  students,  soldiers,  English  and 
French,  waiting,  with  a  pain  in  the  neck,  to  see  it  strike  ?  Well, 
the  hour  came.  Up  rises  a  rooster,  flaps  his  wings,  Cock-a- 
doodle-doo-oo-oo  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  roar  the  astonished  idlers. 
Out  rush  a  company  of  bears,  (the  national  brute  of  Berne  ;  they 
keep  several  hundred  at  public  expense  5  we  saw  their  dens;) 
some  on  horseback,  some  with  swords,  all  looking  most  quizzical 
and  grotesque ;  when — pause — then  an  odd  gentleman  in  knight 
ly  armor,  a  ghost  of  the  middle  ages,  beats  the  hour  in  the 
tower  above,  while  an  old  fellow  who  sits  above  the  bears,  opens 
his  mouth  and  nods  his  head,  as  the  stroke  falls,  and  gradually 
turns  over  an  hour-glass  in  his  hands.  Surely  we  are  coming 
into  Germany  now.  Indeed,  the  yaw  and  nein  begin  to  an 
nounce  the  fact,  had  we  no  curious  horologues  to  tell  it. 

None  but  a  German,  although  a  Swiss,  could  like  a  bear. 
Why  ?  If  the  reader  cannot  tell,  read  on  ! — Every  where, — on 
the  coins,  at  the  fountains,  upon  the  crackers  and  gingerbread, 
stuffed  in  the  Museum,  and  alive  climbing  trees  and  in  their 
dens  at  Berne, — is  Bruin,  the  pet  of  the  people  and  the  glory  of 
art.  The  French  carried  off  some  two  hundred  bears  to  Pans, 
and  put  them  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  in  1798;  but  they 
were  demanded  back  with  as  much  ceremony  by  Berne,  as  were 
franchises  by  other  nations. 


IN  AND  ABOUND  GENEVA.  323 

We  may  be  said  to  have  fairly  entered  German  Switzerland, 
when  we  cross  the  great  bridge  at  Fribourg.  This  bridge,  by 
the  way,  deserves  a  notice.  It  spans  the  Saarine  river,  which 
runs  into  the  Rhine  below  Schaffhausen.  It  is  a  wire-suspen 
sion,  and  has  the  longest  single  curve  of  any  in  the  world,  not 
even  excepting  Menai,  near  Liverpool.  Mcnai  is  580  feet  long, 
130  feet  high ;  that  of  Fribourg  is  941  feet  long  and  180  feet 
high.  It  commands  a  magnificent  prospect ;  though  we  did  not, 
on  account  of  the  drizzle,  see  much  more  than  the  beautiful  vale. 

We  feared  that  we  should  leave  Switzerland  without  a  view 
of  the  Bernese  Alps,  with  their  Jungfrau  and  Wetterhorn,  their 
Lauterbriinnen,  and  Grindenwald.  But  no  !  Scarcely  had  we 
left  Berne,  when  a  few  minutes  of  sunshine  cleared  the  sky,  so 
as  to  permit  us  a  farewell  to  this  magnificent  range,  the  scene  of 
Manfred  and  William  Tell;  the  glittering  snow-peaks  whose 
evening  liues  shine  like  the  gates  of  heaven  to  which  they  ever 
lastingly  aspire.  This  view  from  a  terrace  near  Berne,  is  its 
greatest  charm.  Although  celebrated  as  the  capital  of  the 
Cantons,  whose  Diet  is  now  in  session ;  although  curious  for  its 
bears,  and,  like  other  Swiss  towns,  for  its  fountains ;  although 
celebrated  for  its  fine  streets  with  paves,  roofed  above  for  foot- 
passengers  ;  yet  nothing  attracts  the  stranger  so  much  as  the 
distant  Alps,  with  their  robes  of  white  and  peaks  of  terror ! 

At  all  times  fortunate,  we  enjoyed  the  vision.  It  well  suffices 
for  a  closing  view  of  these  capital  characters  of  the  Creator — 
these  '  unambiguous  footsteps  of  the  Deity' — written  so  clearly 
and  boldly  over  these  cantons  of  freedom.  May  the  latter  ever 
be  as  free  from  the  footsteps  of  the  despot,  as  Tell  would  have 
had  them,  and  as  the  Alps  themselves,  in  their  lofty  state  of 
individual  yet  linked  independence ;  and  may  they  be  as  per 
manent,  too,  as  those  Alps  upon  their  sunless  pillars  deep  in 
earth ! 


XXVI. 

ifnm  tljB  (Cnnfira  nf  luiitjrrlnnir. 

"Farewell,  with  thy  glad  dwellers,  green  vales  among  the  rocks!" 

Bryant. 

FTPON  the  evening  of  the  28th  of  July,  the  most  ancient  and 
walled   city  of   Soleure,  received   us   at  its  great  gate,  in 
feudal  style,  and  regaled  us  with  strawberries  and  cream  foun 
tains  that  murmur,  and  promenades  that  please.     As  I  write  at 
e  midnight   hour,  the  sweetest  of  fountains,  twins   in  melody 
in   beauty,  burst  near  my  window  beneath   the  reverend 
forms   of  Moses   smiting  the   rock,   and   Gideon  wringing  the 
fleece,  sculptured  in  superb  style,  and  guarding  the  steps  which 
lead  up  to  the  Corinthian  Cathedral  before  our  hotel. 

We  visited  the   interior  of  the   Cathedral.     Noiselessly  we 
walked  under  its  white  and  chaste  canopy  of  carved  stone,  and 
amid  its  silent  worshippers.     Nought  was  heard  to  break  the 
religious   stillness,  save  the  whisper  of  the  confessing  and  the 
suppressed  bass  of  the  priest  in  the  gloomy  confessional      The 
radiant  images  of  the  Virgin  and  of  the  Saviour  beamed  with  mild 
love  from  the  walls,  and  led  our  hearts  away  from  the  fastnesses 
and    sublimities    of  nature,  with   which    they  had   become  so 
familiar,  into   the  serener  atmosphere  of  affection.     The  loved 
ones  at  home  smiled  so  tearfully  and  happily,  that,  entranced  in 
thoughts  of  them,  we  soon  saw  with  the  mental  eye,  only  their 
invisible  forms.     After  all,  there   are  no   forms  we  see  while 
abroad,  so  enrapturing  to  behold  as  those  which  rise  impurpled 
m  love's  own  light,  at  the  heart's  warm  bidding.     Sculpture  hath 
no  such  grace,  painting  no  such  warmth  as  that  which  moves 


UPON  THE  CONFINES  OF  SWITZERLAND.  325 

and  glows  around  the  hearth-stone.  "We  may  visit  the  home 
where  Calvin  lived  and  died,  as  we  did  in  Geneva,  and  claim 
him  as  a  kindred  spirit ;  we  may  see,  as  we  did  a  few  hours 
since,  the  house  where  Kosciusko  lived,  while  an  exile  from  the 
land  he  so  loved,  and  revere  his  memory  as  connate  with  that 
of  our  own  "Washington ;  we  may  glow,  while  contemplating 
their  excellencies,  with  kindred  sparks ;  but  at  last,  the  mild 
and  heavenly  eye  of  a  Madonna,  from  the  minster-wall,  will 
recall  a  mother's  tenderness  and  care,  and  awaken  the  filial  fear 
and  love ;  while  tearfully  will  go  up  the  orison  to  Him  who  can 
guard,  that  he  will  protect  from  harm  and  woe,  those  to  whom 
we  are  bound  by  the  closest  ties  of  earth. 

Since  writing  the  foregoing,  we  have  traversed  the  remaining 
portion  of  Switzerland  which  lies  between  Soleure  and  Basle. 
This  morning,  we  arrived  at  the  latter  place  and  found  it — like 
Soleure, — well  walled,  with  pepper-box  towers  around,  and 
protcullises  and  the  other  paraphernalia  of  a  free  city  of  the 
middle  ages,  which  it  once  was.  Indeed  it  has  not  lost  its  cha 
racter.  This  is  the  ancient  city  which  furnished  such  convenient 
refuge  to  French  Protestants,  when  to  be  one  was  to  be  burned. 
Farel,  Anemand,  Esch,  Touissaint  and  their  friends,  here  estab 
lished  the  first  general  Evangelical  Society.  Hither  fled  those 
refugees  of  Lyons  and  Grenoble,  which  the  good  Margaret 
Valois,  sister  to  Francis  I.,  attempted  in  vain  to  shield.  It  was 
here  that  Luther's  works  and  the  Scriptures  were  first  published 
in  French,  and  here  was  the  first  Bible  and  Tract  Society  estab 
lished.  We  had  heard  that  so  religiously  strict  were  the 
descendants  of  these  French  refugees  and  of  their  protectors, 
that  we  could  not  obtain  ingress  within  the  walls,  if  the  people 
were  attending  service.  But  we  had  not  arrived  within  a  half 
mile  of  the  gate,  before  we  saw  a  crowd  of  over  two  hundred 
collected  around  a  circus,  under  the  tent  of  which,  a  dozen 
hobby  horses  were  flying  around,  mounted  by  youngsters  with 
steels  picking  off  rings  as  they  passed  a  spot,  to  the  great  diver 
sion  of  the  elders.  "We  had  just  left  Soleure  when  the  chimes 


326  UPON  THE  CONFINES  OF  SWITZERLAND. 

were  ringing  the  people  to  church,  and  a  sawmill  was  cutting 
timber  under  the  belfry's  shadow  ;  we  had  seen  the  stores  all 
open  there,  and  the  peasants  cutting  their  grain  and  working  as 
usual  all  along  the  road  ;  but  we  were  not  prepared  for  such 
impiety  at  Basle.  Shade  of  Erasmus  !  where  is  your  "  praise  of 
folly  ?"  Your  coterie  of  brilliants  no  longer  shines  around  your 
witty  board.  Myconnis,  Amberbach,  Glarean — astute  scholars 
and  cordial  spirits — where  are  they  now  ?  Have  they  no  voice, 
to  sting  with  satire  the  degeneracy  of  these  Basle-folk  ?  Alas  ! 
Erasmus  lies  in  the  old  Cathedral,  with  the  ungainly  picture  of 
St.  George  on  horseback  piercing  the  dragon  as  its  frontispiece ; 
and  the  noisy  city  rumbles  by,  unconscious  of  the  Sabbath,  intent 
on  pleasure,  and  unwounded  by  the  satire  of  the  scholar. 

We  were  down  to  see  the  Rhine.  It  was  our  first  glance  at 
this  magician.  I  will  not  speak  of  him  yet.  The  righteous 
people  of  ancient  Basle  were  not  on  its  bridge  ;  and  you  cannot 
even  truthfully  repeat  Longfellow's  stanza, 

"  There  sat  one  day  in  quiet, 

By  an  ale-house  on  the  Rhine, 
Four  hale  and  hearty  fellows, 
And  drank  the  precious  wine." 

The  fellows  and  the  wine  are  not  wanting  ;  but  the  quiet — 
ah !  one  must  go  farther  away  from  French  neighborhood  and 
into  phlegmatic  North-Germany,  to  find  that — at  least  on  a 
Sunday.  Every  body  is  out  pitching  quoits,  rolling  nine-pins, 
drinking  wine,  listening  to  music  at  cafes,  and  playing  the  noisy 
Diabolus  generally. 

In  Switzerland,  our  mode  of  travel  has  been  performed  by 
means  of  vetturino — a  hired  carriage,  for  which  we  have 
a  special  contract,  and  which  we  can  control  as  we  please. 
Through  a  country  sparkling  with  cascades  and  frowning  with 
mountains,  this  ad  libitum  mode  of  conveyance  is  as  convenient 
as  it  is  pleasant.  The  roads  every  where  are  of  the  best 
quality,  being  in  direct  contrast  with  the  roads  at  home,  where, 


UPON  THE  CONFINES  OF  SWITZERLAND.  327 

in  wet  weather,  off  of  the  turnpikes,  ruts  and  mud  prevail. 
Indeed,  all  the  roads  are  elegantly  McAdamized.  The  hotels, 
too,  are  of  the  most  accommodating  kind.  At  many  of  them  we 
find  some  one  who  can  speak  English,  and  at  all  of  them  some 
one  who  can  speak  French.  A  little  French  to  begin  a  tour 
with,  is  a  great  deal.  The  image  of  the  rolling  snowball  was 
never  more  applicable  than  to  the  study  of  French  by  travelling  : 
a  basis  is  necessary  to  start  with.  It  was  humorous  to  see 
four  Swiss  citizens  of  Berne  in  our  car  going  to  Heidelberg, 
trying  to  practise  the  little  English  they  were  and  had  been 
studying.  We  were  the  target,  and  such  fires  as  they  made. 
The  awkward  squad,  tipsy  with  the  worst  "  old  rye,"  never 
popped  at  a  mark  with  such  abominable  inexactitude.  We  hope 
they  will  do  better  before  they  reach  London,  whither  they  are 
bound  for  the  exhibition.  We  hope,  too,  that  our  primary 
efforts  at  French  were  not  so  convulsive  to  the  hearer. 

A  goodly  number  from  Germany  and  Switzerland,  are  en 
route  for  London.  The  exhibition  will  attract  more  the  next 
month  than  it  has  during  any  other.  Prints  of  it  are  in  every 
window  of  every  print-shop  in  all  the  places  we  pass  through, 
gazed  at  with  open-eyed  wonder,  by  idlers.  It  is  a  constant  topic 
of  conversation.  It  is  the  theme  of  every  inquiry.  No  one  was 
so  curious  as  the  little  lass,  of  bright  eye  and  dimpled  cheek, 
who  waited  on  us  at  the  summit  of  the  Simplon  pass.  She  had 
helped  to  make,  as  she  told  me,  the  mammoth  cheese  ;  and  was 
extremely  anxious  to  know  if  I  had  not  noticed  it  in  the  palace. 
I  told  her,  nay  ;  but  added  that  I  would  look  it  up  on  my  re 
turn.  A  cheese  from  the  milk  of  cows  that  eat  the  grass  which 
grows  on  mounts  snow-topped,  and  8,000  feet  above  the  flags  of 
the  glass  palace,  is  a  cheese  that  is  not  to  be  passed  by  indif 
ferently.  To  some  purpose  the  glacier  melts  to  irrigate  the 
valley — to  some  purpose  doth  the  grass  grow  upon  the  heights 
of  the  Alps — to  some  purpose  the  cow-bell  tinkles  at  evening  in 
the  vale.  Cheese  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  products  of 
Switzerland  ;  and  every  nicety  and  care  is  taken  to  bring  its 


328  UPON  THE  CONFINES  OF  SWITZERLAND. 

manufacture  to  a  high  state  of  perfection.  Among  the  most 
noticeable  objects  in  a  Swiss  and  German  landscape,  is  the  cot 
tage,  under  whose  ample  straw  roof,  both  the  peasant  and  the 
kine  are  closely  housed.  As  much  care  is  taken  of  the  cheese- 
producers  as  of  the  cheese-eaters.  The  proximity  of  the  stable 
and  house  would  not  be  agreeable  to  very  refined  olfactories. 

It  is  interesting  to  move  around  these  homes  of  the  Reform 
ers,  to  feel  the  struggle  they  felt,  to  recall  the  risk  they  ran,  and 
to  glory  in  their  triumphs.  Our  way  northward,  will  be  amidst 
such  scenes.  And  yet  while  possessed  of  a  diiferent  faith,  and 
belonging  to  a  country  where  Protestantism  preponderates,  we 
should  not  forget  that  all-embracing  toleration,  which  our  Con 
stitution  embodies  and  our  national  spirit  fosters.  We  have 
seen  the  rude  images  of  the  Saviour  hanging  to  the  cross,  along 
the  Valley  of  the  Rhone  ;  have  seen  in  Malta  the  priest  sitting 
at  the  church  door  under  the  sign  "  Plenaria  Indulgenzia  ;"  have 
seen  the  Roman  people  kissing  the  silver  toe  of  the  Madonna  ; 
and  while  shrinking  from  these  modes  of  devotion  so  alien  to 
our  own  education  and  faith,  we  know  that  GOD  who  seeth  the 
heart  is  their  judge,  and  HE  only. 


XXVII. 


*•  Here  I  stand,  I  cannot  otherwise.    God  help  me  !    Amen  !" 

Luther  before  the  Diet  of  Worms. 

"DETWEEN  Basle  and  Heidelberg,  which  we  ran  on  a  rail- 
)  road,  at  a  cheap  rate  too,  the  country  is  well  cultivated. 
Ploughed  grounds,  harvest  fields,  gardens  of  cabbages,  and  vines 
without  measure,  line  the  way.  We  begin  to  enter  the  region 
of  castles.  We  stopped  long  enough  at  the  capital  of  Baden, 
Carlsruhe,  to  admire  the  beautiful  palace  of  the  Grand  Duke,  in 
the  centre  of  the  city,  from  which  all  the  streets  run  as  the 
radii  of  a  circle.  The  valley  of  the  Rhine  is  wide  and  level 
until  it  reaches  Heidelberg,  where  two  mountains  —  rather  small 
specimens  after  being  in  Chamouni  —  part  to  receive  a  respecta 
ble  city,  which,  beginning  in  the  plain,  runs  up  between  them 
along  the  Rhone.  Heidelberg  has  associations  not  a  few.  Long 
fellow,  in  his  Hyperion,  has  inwoven  with  the  old  castle  which 
so  majestically  overlooks  the  enchanting  scenery,  some  of  the 
most  pleasing  sentiments  ;  while  the  mediaeval  and  reformatory 
ages  march  around  its  University  halls  and  invincible  ramparts, 
with  banners  of  heroic  and  classic  device.  Here  a  chapter  of 
the  Augustine  order  met  in  1518,  which  Luther  attended,  tra 
velling  from  Wittenberg  afoot,  drinking  in  the  scenery,  disput 
ing  with  Miger,  and  spreading  abroad  his  bold  and  then  heretical 
doctrines.  Here  his  timid  co-reformer,  the  gentle  Philip  Me- 
lancthon,  studied  before  he  began  his  labors.  But  most  is  Hei 
delberg  interesting  for  the  castle.  We  have  seen  none  like  it. 
in  associations,  in  beauty,  in  situation,  in  environment.  We 
rode  down  the  valley,  before  we  began  to  ascend  its  heights, 


330  FATHERLAND. 

and  stopped  at  an  enchanting  spring  called  Wolf  briinnen,  where 
an  enchantress  called  Jetta,  the  Cassandra  of  the  Palatinate, 
was  torn  in  pieces  by  a  wolf.  A  girl  amused  us  by  throwing  min 
nows  to  fish  of  larger  fry,  who  dashed  about  in  the  clear  waters, 
where  they  are  kept  as  pets.  The  speckled  trout  took  my  fancy, 
as  they  darted  out  of  the  shadow  into  the  sunlight,  snapped  a 
little  fellow-fish,  turned  a  flip-flap,  and  evanished.  But  this 
wolfy  place  is  small  game,  compared  to  the  old  red  walls,  with 
their  carved  armed  knights  filling  the  niches,  and  the  heavy 
battlements  surrounding  the  gardens,  wherein  the  Electors  Pa 
latine  once  luxuriated.  The  castle  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  the 
middle-age  architecture,  strong  with  its  portcullis,  and  beautiful 
in  its  archways  and  lawns.  Statues  of  the  family  of  the  Elec 
tors  are  around.  But  the  most  interesting  part  is  the  English 
palace,  built  for  Elizabeth,  granddaughter  of  Mary,  Queen  of 
Scots,  who  married  the  Elector  Frederick  V.  He  built  the 
noble  arch  of  triumph  which  may  be  discerned  among  the  shad 
ows  of  the  trees,  entwined  with  heavy  hangings  of  ivy,  to  cele 
brate  the  nuptials.  It  leads  to  a  garden  which  was  tastefully 
arranged  for  her  pleasure.  The  reader  of  Mrs.  Jameson  will 
remember  Elizabeth  for  a  Stuart  of  the  deepest  dye,  as  proud 
and  as  arrogant  as  her  degradation  was  beggarly  and  severe.  A 
thick  growth  of  glistening  ivy  clusters  around  each  old  wall,  and 
enwraps  with  its  trunk  the  stones  of  the  ruins,  as  with  bands  of 
iron.  The  view  of  the  country,  of  the  Kaiser's  Stuhl,  of  the 
three  towers  of  Manheim  down  the  vale,  and  of  the  tree-clad 
hills  toward  the  Oberland,  is  bewitching  under  the  red  glow  of 
the  sinking  sun.  More  especially  is  it  fine  after  the  dim  eclipse 
which  the  orb  has  been  suffering  during  the  afternoon,  and 
which  we,  with  others  at  our  hotel,  through  smoked  glass,  and  in 
tubs  of  water,  have  curiously  observed. 

The  height  of  the  tower  is  near  1.500  feet.  We  passed 
through  the  prison,  into  the  chapel,  out  upon  the  terraces  of 
btone  which  overlook  the  vale,  and  afford  a  view  of  the  magnifi 
cent  front  with  its  traceries  of  fruit  and  foliage,  its  statues  and 


FATHERLAND.  331 

antique  heads.  The  front  rises  in  three  portions,  each  capped 
with  a  statue. 

I  should  not  forget  the  wine  casks  of  the  cellar,  the  largest 
of  which  contains  800  hogsheads !  It  is  36  feet  long  and  24 
feet  high.  When  it  is  filled,  the  lads  and  lasses  have  a  dance 
upon  the  platform  on  top.  With  so  much  wine  under  one's 
heels,  one  ought  to  trip  it  with  wonderful  vivacity,  if  not  with 
grace.  The  cask  is  a  wonder,  only  exceeding  by  a  few  feet  its 
younger  sister  in  the  room  hard  by. 

I  have  too  much  to  write,  and  too  little  time  to  say  it,  to 
dwell  long  even  in  Heidelberg,  with  its  students,  its  views,  and 
its  history.  As  a  curious  relic  of  the  era,  when  Germany  was 
united  to  the  empire,  and  when  the  Palatinate  had  a  large  voice 
in  the  choice ;  of  an  era  when  chivalry  poised  its  lance  and 
lived  in  feudal  towers,  it  stands  unrivalled.  An  edifice,  rival 
ling  the  castle  in  elegance,  now  stands  in  the  city  of  Heidel 
berg,  but  it  is  a  vulgar  railroad  station ;  and  although  its 
gardens  display  fine  taste,  its  columns  rise  in  harmony,  and  its 
rooms  are  decorated  finer  than  ever  was  lady's  bower  in  the  feu 
dal  day — yet  the  soft  twilight  of  antiquity  is  not  on  them.  The 
coal  smoke  of  the  locomotive  is  not  a  very  choice  medium  of 
beauty.  A  day  and  a  half  exhausted  Heidelberg,  and  we  were 
soon  pushing  onward  through  Darmstadt,  a  city  situated  among 
hills,  studded  with  castles,  where  Charlemagne  and  his  barons 
held  their  court. 

The  vine  and  tobacco  ;  (oh  !  Fatherland,  what  oblivion  dwells 
in  these  your  staples  !)  peasant  women  harvesting  wheat  with 
small  knives,  and  men  cutting  grass  with  scythes  that  gave  no 
bend  to  the  body  ;  with  alternation  of  green  and  golden  fields, 
adorned  with  no  stake  or  rider,  indeed  no  fence  at  all — these  in 
fast  succession  are  passed,  until  the  Maine,  with  Frankfort  upon 
it,  and  a  bridge  leading  over  it,  appeared. 

This  is  a  city  that  looks  business-like.  No  lazy  lazza- 
roni  or  sleepy  Italians  here.  Bustle  and  industry  indicate  the 
old  free  town.  Fine  streets  and  houses  indicate  the  presence  of 


332  FA  THE R LAND. 

the  Bankers  and  Ambassadors  of  Germany.     We  were  not  long 
in  being  hotelled,  nor  in  seeking  the  curious.     We  found  the 
latter  in  the  Library,  upon  the  Maine  bank,  a  splendid  structure 
containing  twenty  thousand  books,  together  with  the  portraits  of 
Luther,  and  his  most  excellent  wife  Katharine.     The  latter  was 
so  modest,  and  nun-like,  so  devout  and  simple-hearted  in  her 
appearance,  compared  to  the  gruff  and  harsh  reformer,  that  we 
could  not  wonder  at  the  docility  of  the  latter  under  her  gentle 
tuition,  and  the  tender  lamb-like  letters  he  used  to  write  her, 
when  off  from  home,  talking  of  indulgences  and  reformation.     In 
the  same  glass  case  is  shown  his  shoes — and  rough  ones  too. 
The  poorest  American  (if  he  has  any)  has  a  better  pair  than  had 
the  learned  Doctor  Martin.     Not  particularly  fond  of  the  beau 
tiful  material,  but  of  the  beautiful  spiritual,  was  the  brave  old 
heart.     His  writings  would  indicate  that,  if  his  shoes  had  no 
meaning.     We  saw  here  his  autograph,  and  two  letters  written 
by  him,  by  the  side  of  a  letter  of  Melancthon,  and  one  of  Na 
poleon. 

What  momentous  results  have  emanated  from  the  bold  action 
of  the  poor  miner's  son  of  Eisleben — the  humble  Augustine 
Friar  Martin  !  With  the  world  against  him,  empires  threaten 
ing  to  devour  him. — the  thunders  of  the  Vatican  aimed  at  his 
destruction,  he  remained  firm  and  invincible.  We  have  placed 
his  bold  declaration  at  the  head  of  our  chapter  on  Germany  ; 
because  he  is  the  most  German  man  in  history.  He  had  all  the 
virtues  and  faults  of  the  German  nature.  Dreamy  in  his  mys 
ticism,  he  was  still  an  actor  in  the  most  severe  trials  of  life.  A 
fine  scholar,  he  nevertheless  was  eminently  social.  His  social 
disposition  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  traits  in  his  character. 
It  is  said  of  him,  that  though  he  could  scold  like  a  fish-wife,  he 
could  be  soft  as  a  tender  maiden  ;  sometimes  as  wild  as  the  storm 
that  uproots  the  oak,  and  then  as  gentle  as  the  zephyr  that  dal 
lies  with  the  violet.  Nowhere  is  his  kindly  disposition  so  mani 
fest  as  in  his  epistles  to  his  good  wife  Katharine,  while  absent 
from  home.  I  cannot  refrain  from  referring  to  these,  while  gaz- 


FATHERLAND.  333 


ing  upon  the  portraits  of  the  happy  twain  in  the  Library.  One 
of  his  letters,  and  perhaps  the  one  we  saw,  is  addressed  "  to  my 
Gracious  Lady,  Katharine  Luther,  of  Bora  and  Zulsdorf,  near 
Wittenberg;  my  Sweetheart.  Grace  arid  Peace,  my  dear' maid 
and  wife  !  Your  grace  shall  know  we  are  here,  God  be  praised  ! 

fresh  and  sound  ;  eat  like  Bohemians  ;  yet  not  to  excess guzzle 

like  Germans— yet  not  much  ;  but  are  joyful."  Another  is  ad 
dressed,  "  To  the  rich  Lady  at  Zulsdorf,  Lady  Katharin  Luther- 
m  —  bodily  resident  at  Wittenberg,  and  mentally  wandering  at 
Zulsdorf,— my  beloved,  for  her  own  hands."  Another  still  in 
reply  to  an  anxious  letter  of  his  wife's  ;  "  To  the  deeply  learned 

Katharin   Lutherin,  my  Gracious   Housewife  at  Wittenberg 

Doctoress — Self-Martyress,  my  Gracious  Lady  for  her  hands  and 
feet.  Grace  and  Peace  in  the  Lord,  dear  Kate  !  Do  thou  read 
John  and  the  little  catechism.  For  thou  must  needs  care  before 
thy  God,  just  as  if  he  were  not  Almighty  and  could  not  create  ten 
Doctor  Martins,  if  the  single  old  one  were  to  drown  in  the  Soale, 
or  the  Ovenhole,  or  Wolfs  Vogelhierd.  ]^eave  me  in  peace  with 
thy  anxiety.  I  have  a  better  guardian  than  thou  and  all  the 
angels  are.  Therefore  be  in  peace  !  Amen !" 

What  a  rough  disguise  is  here  for  the  most  tender  affection. 
The  man  of  logic   and  fierce  debate  is  seen  playing  with  the 
heart-strings  of  home,  and  tinting  with  the  rose  the  sober  reali 
ties  of  his  life  and  its  mission  ;  and  who  shall  say  that  the  Great 
Reformer  does  not  appear  more  lovely  in  his  life  on  account  of 
this  tenderness  and  affection  ?     How  demurely  sweet  his  good 
nun-wife  seems  in  the  portrait,  beside  her  fond  yet  rugged  hus 
band-Doctor.     The  first  is   dressed  with  a  nun's  veil  in  close 
folds  enveloping  her  head ;  a  dark  fur  mantle  investing  her  per 
son,  except  the  open  front,  which  is   adorned  with  a  white   lace 
habit ;  ruffles  encirling  her  neck  ;  which  together  with  the  mantle 
are  caught  and  fastened  by  cord  and  tassels,  while  her  delicate 
little  hands  are  meekly  folded  across  her  lap  ;  and  her  whole  ap 
pearance  is  in  contrast  with  the  burly  Reformer,  in  his  monkish 
hat  and  gown.     These  portraits  are  the  only  authentic   ones 
known  to  exist,  and  in  consequence  are  prized  pricelessly. 


334  FATHERLAND. 

The  statue  of  Goethe,  who  lived  and  died  here,  which  is  seen 
in  the  vestibule  to  the  library,  is  by  Marchesi,  and  is  so  com 
manding  in  the  intellectual  sphere  within  which  it  sits  like  Jove 
enthroned  amid  the  circle  of  Olympus,  that  it  enthrals  the  be 
holder  at  the  first  glance.  It  is  of  Carrara  marble.  A  larger 
image  of  the  great  poet  is  placed  among  the  trees  of  a  promenade, 
and  is  of  bronze.  It  represents  him  as  holding  the  wreath  of 
literary  fame,  and  dressed  in  the  modern  costume  which  appears 
oeneath  the  ancient  flowing  toga.  The  bass-reliefs  below  are 
emblematic  and  appropriate.  Well  may  Frankfort  place  promi 
nently  before  her  citizens  the  form  of  the  great  man  of  modern 
Germany.  The  intellectual  power  which  commands  your  admi 
ration,  from  the  marble  features.of  Goethe,  is  immense.  ^  The 
many-sided  man  of  the  world,  knowing,  restless,  subtle,  omitting 
no  means  or  avenue  to  the  human  heart ;  at  once  sarcastic  and 
facetious,  thrilling  and  tender,  wild  and  sublime, — Goethe,  has 
embodied  in  language  a  spirit  and  an  essence  which  has  for  ever 
imprinted  its  influence  upon  literature.  Whether  he  seeks  to 
exhibit  all  that  is  most  terrific  and  demoniac  in  nature  by  the 
creation  of  Mephistophiles ;  or  whether,  like  the  demon,  he  as 
sumes  every  phase  of  human  nature, — he  is  still  the  peerless  in 
tellect, — the  mental  apex,  having  sixty  millions  of  Germans  for 
its  base. 

Busts  of  Goethe  are  to  be  seen  in  the  shop  windows,  and  re 
presentations  of  his  genius  are  at  every  square.  There  is  a  fine 
emblem  of  his  poetic  inspiration  in  the  library,  where  the  poet 
is  represented  on  the  winged  horse  soaring  above  Olympus, 
sweeping  the  regions  of  the  unknown,  and  visiting  world  after 
world  by  the  might  of  his  genius.  Another  statue,  prized  very 
much  by  the  people  of  Frankfort,  is  that  which  illustrates  the 
beautiful  myth  of  Ariadne.  It  represents  her  at  the  culmina 
ting  point  of  her  history,  when  deserted  by  Theseus.  Theseus 
was  sent,  with  other  Athenian  prisoners,  to  be  devoured  by  the 
centaur,  in  the  midst  of  the  labyrinth  of  Minos.  He  was  enabled, 
by  the  aid  of  Ariadne,  the  daughter  of  Minos,  to  get  into  and 


FATHERLAND.  335 

out  of  the  labyrinth  by  a  thread  ;  and  promised,  for  his  release, 
to  wed  and  carry  off  the  nymph  as  his  bride.  He  wedded  ;  then 
deserted  her  while  she  was  sleeping.  Bacchus  became  enamored 
of  her,  in  the  loveliness  of  her  woe,  and  made  her  immortal. 
The  statue  represents  her  after  she  has  been  wedded  to  immor 
tality  in  the  person  of  the  God  of  the  Vineyard.  She  is  seated 
upon  the  leopard  of  Bacchus,  with  proud  and  beautiful  mien, 
conscious  of  the  celestial  ichor  which  now  bounds  in  her  veins  ! 
This  statue  is  exhibited  by  its  owner,  Mr.  Bethingen,  at  his 
princely  residence,  amidst  a  number  of  inferior  marbles  and 
casts. 

But  above  all  the  results  of  German  art,  and  incomparably 
superior  to  any  painting  we  have  yet  seen  in  Europe  (always 
excepting  the  Transfiguration),  is  the  painting  at  the  Museum 
by  Lessing,  known  as  "  Huss  before  the  Council  of  Constance." 
The  ill-fated,  but  true-souled  reformer,  is  represented  amidst  a 
group  of  sensual  cardinals,  priests  and  curious  lookers  on,  some 
jeering,  others  intent  upon  his  words  of  new  life,  others  astounded 
at  his  boldness ;  but  all  yielding  in  effect  to  the  superior  air  of 
Huss.  who  stands  unappalled,  with  one  hand  upon  his  heart,  the 
other  upon  the  Word,  and  with  the  majesty  and  earnestness  of  a 
deep-seated  persuasion,  invincible  as  the  soul  itself  to  the  threat- 
enings  of  man,  and  lofty  in  the  full  consciousness  of  its  immortal 
nature  ! 

Huss  was  a  light  that  beamed  so  brightly  in  the  surrounding 
gloom,  that  it  could  not  long  remain.  He  leaped  at  once  to  the 
grandest  truths.  He  did  not,  like  Luther  even,  dally  with  old 
errors  long  after  he  had  received  new  truths.  When  driven  out 
of  Prague  into  Bohemia,  what  said  he ?  "I  am  no  dreamer,  but 
of  this  I  am  certain,  that  the  image  of  Christ  only  will  never 
be  effaced.  I,  awakening  from  the  dead,  will  leap  with  great 
joy."  The  artist  has  not  made  him  a  man  of  dreams,  but  of 
massive,  wakeful  mind,  with  pale  high  brow,  a  deep  and  mild, 
yet  heavenly  beaming  eye,  and  sustained  with  the  conscia  rccti 
of  a  lofty  spiritual  independence.  There  is  a  species  of  abstrac- 


330  FATHERLAND. 

tion  in  the  countenance  that  speaks  of  the  mould  of  the  man ; 
and  an  air  of  superiority  in  his  very  humility,  that  almost  awes 
you.  as  if  it  were  a  presence  and  a  power.  And  is  not  the 
highest  reach  of  art  owing  to  the  presence  of  powerful  thought, 
seeking  communion  through  the  eye  and  mind  with  the  death 
less  essence  within  ?  Does  not  Huss,  from  the  canvas,  tell  us 
of  trial,  study,  patience,  opprobrium,  and  as  the  crown — glory, 
if  not  here,  then  hereafter  ? 

His  mournful  history  is  a  painful  commentary  upon  the  per 
jury  of  royal  and  ecclesiastical  power,  which  had  given  him  a 
solemn  and  written  assurance  of  protection,  and  broke  their 
promise,  in  order  to  rejoice  around  the  crackling  flames  that 
consumed  the  body,  but  could  not  harm  the  soul  of  one  of  the 
noblest  martyrs  of  Christendom. 

The  Cathedral  in  Frankfort  has  no  merit  as  a  structure. 
One  of  the  Emperors  reposes  in  it ;  and  some  fifty  of  them  were 
therein  crowned.  We  sat  in  the  old  chair  in  which  their  august 
majesties  used  to  sit,  but  found  no  particular  virtue  in  the  ope 
ration.  The  Homer,  or  town-house,  should  never  be  omitted, 
especially  by  one  who  is  fond  of  tracing  back  to.  its  source  in  the 
German  forests,  the  origin  of  that  race  which  broke  down  the 
Roman  power,  united  France,  Germany,  and  Italy  under  one 
great  head,  penetrated  Britain  with  its  Saxon  arm,  and  is  fast 
rescuing  the  wilds  of  the  western  world  from  the  dominion  of 
Nature,  and  of  the  Spaniard.  What  an  energy,  a  will,  a  steady 
unbroken  perseverance  burned  in  the  old  German  tribes  !  You 
will  find  them  all  knit  into  the  stalwart  frames  and  proudly- 
rough  bearing  of  Charlemagne  and  his  successors,  as  they  look 
down  from  their  panels  in  the  old  Banqueting  Hall  of  the 
town-house.  The  costumes  are  preserved,  and  underneath  are 
the  mottoes  of  each,  in  Latin,  which  speak  much  of  justice  and 
rectitude,  but  every  where  of  boldness  and  decision  in  maintain 
ing  their  right. 

These  portraits  are  by  Lessing,  Bendemann,  and  other  emi 
nent  artists  of  Germany.  The  Hall  is  in  the  shape  of  a  rhoin- 


FATHERLAND.  337 

bold,  and  is  the  place  where  the  Emperors  were  waited  upon  by 
the  kings  and  princes  at  the  festivities.  We  went  into  the  Elec 
tion  Chamber,  where  the  senate  of  Frankfort  now  meets,  and 
where  of  old  the  electors  met  to  choose  the  Emperor.  The 
honor  of  Emperor  was  long  monopolized  by  the  house  of  Haps- 
burg,  now  the  ruling  house  of  Austria.  One  among  the  many 
blessings  which  Napoleon  conferred  upon  Europe,  was  the 
breaking  up  of  this  German  Empire,  with  its  hosts  of  Princes, 
Dukes,  and  Kings.  There  is  now  in  the  German  mind  an  in 
tense  longing  for  a  reunion,  but  not  under  the  old  rulers.  The 
tie  which  so  long  gave  unity  to  Germany  grew  weaker  with 
time,  in  proportion  as  Prussia  and  Austria  grew  powerful  and 
jealous  of  each  other.  Frederick  the  Great  first  suggested  the 
idea  of  a  separate  union  of  Prussia  with  the  other  German 
States,  except  Austria.  Ever  since,  Prussia  has  endeavored  to 
render  the  policy  of  Austria  impotent.  Fear  of  Napoleon  al 
layed  for  a  time  the  hatred  of  Austria-  and  Prussia  ;  but  in  1 792 
Prussia,  by  the  treaty  of  Basle,  secured  for  itself  peace,  while 
Austria  was  left  to  rejoice  in  such  equivocal  blessings  as  Maren- 
go,  Austerlitz,  and  Hohenlinden  furnished.  Prussia  grew  strong ; 
Austria  poor.  In  1815,  when  Bonaparte  fell,  a  German  confed 
eration,  with  Austria  and  Prussia  for  its  head,  and  four  free 
towns,  of  which  Frankfort  was  one,  at  the  other  extremity,  was 
formed,  and  regulated  by  a  Diet  which  here  assembled.  It  soon 
became  the  puppet  of  Austria  and  Russia.  The  fevers  of  1848 
disturbed  somewhat  this  one-sided  amicable  game  of  princes ; 
and  a  crisis  was  produced  which  called  for  constitutions  and  a 
union  of  the  sixty  millions  of  Germans  under  one  great  Nation 
ality,  with  Liberty  as  its  soul !  But  you  know  how  things  then 
eventuated.  The  King  of  Prussia  might  have  made  himself  the 
Saviour  of  Germany ;  but  the  golden  time  culminated  and  set ; 
and  Liberty  still  remained — a  dream  of  the  Universities — a  play 
mate  of  the  ocean  waves  and  wild  winds,  with  no  practical  home 
in  this  splendid  land.  Weak,  eccentric  and  reckless,  showing  at 
times  excellent  pluck,  and  again  humiliating  himself  between 
15 


338  FATHERLAND. 

Russia  and  Austria— Frederick  William,  the  King  of  Prussia, 
consented  to  be  virtually  crushed  at  Warsaw  in  the  Schleswig 
difficulty,  and  at  a  time,  too,  when  the  people  of  Prussia  were 
aroused  with  the  finest  spirit,  and  when  absolutism  again  trem 
bled  for  its  power.  Shall  Germany  ever  reduce  her  ideal  liberty 
to  practical  suffrages  and  legislatures,  without  this  everlasting 
military  and  royal  pageantry?  We  trust  that  their  good  day 
will  da"wn.  How  many  Germans  in  America  now  pray  for  the 
same  benison  on  their  Fatherland  ? 

Before  leaving  Frankfort,  I  should  not  forget  the  visit  we 
made  to  Luther's  house,  which,  with  the  portrait  and  the  in 
scription,  still  remain  over  the  doorway,  near  the  town-house, 
and  but  a  few  steps  from  the  two  fountains,  which,  upon  ancient 
coronation  days,  when  the  empire  was  at  its  zenith,  ran  with 
white  and  red  wine  for  the  populace.  Neither  should  I  forget 
the  scarlet  cloth  at  the  Homer,  which,  upon  the  same  day  of  re 
joicing,  the  Emperor  walked  upon  to  the  Cathedral,  and  which 
the  people  had  the  privilege  of  cutting  off,  piece  by  piece,  as  he 
passed,  to  the  sad  jeopardy  of  a  royal  pair  ofheels. 

We  leave  Frankfort  for  the  North  in  the  morning.  Our 
purchases  of  glass  and  pictures,  our  view  of  the  city,  with  its  odd 
houses,  its  scaly  tiles,  its  mirrors  before  the  windows  reflecting 
the  street  in  the  room,  its  fine  railroad  stations,  and  its  hearty, 
industrious,  good-natured  people,  is  finished,  and  we  are  off  for 
Mayence,  to  take  a  boat  for  the  Rhine  beauties  and  Cologne. 


XXVIII. 

Bnttra  tjp  Ejjfo,  mift  nrrnss  tn  IJtotelnn, 

"  He  through  the  armed  files 

Darts  his  experienced  eye,  and  soon  traverse 
The  whole  battalion  views ;  their  order  due ; 
Their  numbers  last  he  sums.     And  now  his  heart 
Distends  with  pride,  and,  hardening  in  his  strength, 
Glories."  Milton. 

A  S  we  shake  hands  at  Frankfort,  let  us  not  imitate  those  old 
-tL  gentlemen  we  saw  at  the  station,  who  embracing,  kiss  each 
other  three  or  four  times  upon  each  cheek  with  all  the  enthu 
siastic  smack  of  a  girl  just  from  her  boarding-school.  Let  us 
not  disturb  either  that  life-and-death  parting  between  the  dra 
goon  and  his  lady  love,  perhaps  his  wife,  whose  chubby  cheeks 
hang  in  close  proximity  to  an  abyss  of  hair  upon  his  upper  and 
nether  facial  department.  But  in  true  American  style,  blow 
your  whistle,  not  the  horn  as  here,  and  under  the  supervision 
of  one  conductor,  not  six  to  a  train  as  here,  dash  over  the  track 
to  Mayence,  at  which  we  must  most  curiously  look,  and  why  ? 
Because  it  was  the  home  of  the  proud  old  electors  ?  Pshaw  !  We 
are  tired  of  such  antiques.  Nor  of  the  luxurious  canons  either, 
who  here,  amid  enormous  revenues,  returned  to  the  Pope  the 
ungracious  and  impudent  answer,  when  reproved  by  him  for 
their  worldly  habits,  that  they  had  more  wine  than  was  needed 
for  mass,  and  not  enough  to  turn  their  mills.  No,  no,  for  wines 
and  vines  are  becoming  common,  very;  but  because  it  was  the 
home  of  two  great  minds — Walpoden,  who  liberated  trade  from 
the  duties  which  each  robber  in  his  feudal  castle  exacted  from 
the  merchant,  by  his  active  efforts  in  forming  the  Rhenish,  after 


340  DOWN  THE  RHINE, 

wards  the  Hanseatic  league;  and  Gutemberg  the  discoverer 
of  printing — the  '  Dermiurgus  of  the  world,'  the  true  leveller  of 
man.  The  people  of  Mayence  have  erected  a  statue  to  the  lat 
ter,  and  in  this  age,  when  unfettered  traffic  is  becoming  appre 
ciated,  a  suitable  monument  to  the  former  might  not  be  inappro 
priate. 

It  rained  as  we  passed  through  Mayence,  so  that  we  barely 
got  a  glimpse  of  its  towers  before  we  were  ushered  into  a  Rhine 
steamer,  and  were  plowing  its  yellow  waters  with  arrowy  ra 
pidity. 

Now,  if  you  expect  a  panorama  of  the   Rhine  from  my  pen, 
you  are  doomed  to  be  disappointed — agreeably ;  for  I  will  not 
inflict  a  description.     You  should  have  seen  our  party  alive — 
literally  and  emphatically,  to  this  Rhine  scenery.     What  makes 
it  so  attractive  ?     Ah  !  there  I  am  at  a  loss.   It  is  not  altogether 
the  strange   towns  walled  to  the  water's  edge,  and  leading  out 
to  the  river  under  old  archways  in  ruin,  with  their  quaintly  paint 
ed  houses  ;  it  is  not  altogether  the  shelving  lawns  and  the  har 
vest  and  green  fields  ;  not  altogether  the  tall,  terraced  vineyards 
rising  from  the  river  among  rocks  to  the  altitude  of  fifteen  hun 
dred  feet ;  although  all  these  are  beautiful  indeed.    It  is  not  alto 
gether  the  changing  prospect  ahead,  by  which  the  river  widens 
into  a  magic  lake  seemingly  without  outlet,  and  crowned  upon 
its  margin  with  castles  of  the  middle  ages,  which  jut  out,  and 
point  upward  amid  crags  that  seem  hung  in  air,  and  twisted  in 
every  shape  ;  it  is  not  altogether  the   dim  old  traditions  which 
haunt  these  spots,  some  purple  with  wild  loves,  others  red  with 
bloody  hate,  others  black  with  devilish  deeds  ;  it  is  not  alogether 
the  nunneries,  the  palaces  of  kings  and  emperors,  the  green  isles, 
and  bridges  of  boats,  nor  the  Gothic  churches  hid  beneath  the 
shadow  of  these  Rhenish  strongholds  ;  it  is  not  the  dance  of  Bac 
chus.  Ceres,  and  Pomona,  from  hill  to  hill ;  not  the  magic  echo 
which  is  repeated  fifteen  times  from  the  gun  and  horn  of  the 
shore ;  not  the   romantic   prance  of  the   steeds  of  the   soldiers 
wending  their  way  along  the  little  road  of  the  banks  ;  not  the 


AND  ACROSS  TO    WATERLOO.  34 j 

spot  where  Blucher's  army  hailed  the  Rhine  after  they  had  drank 
themselves  drunk  with   the   blood  of  the  retreating   French  at 
Waterloo ;  not   the  "  two   brothers,"  rival  crags — the  seven  sis 
ters,  rocks  once  maidens  ;  not  the  great  rafts  of  the  Rhine  ;  not 
yon  prison  of  torture,  which  betokens  our  approach  to  Coblentz 
out  of  whose   lofty  but  gloomy  turrets   the   scream   of  agony 
upon  the  rack  once  burst  upon  the  frighted  air ;  not  that  range 
of  towers  embosomed  in  green,  rising  upon  an  eminent  crag  that 
hangs  above  the  Rhine,  in  whose  ancient  halls  the  royal  house 
of  Prussia  recently  received  Victoria  ;  not  Coblentz  itself,  the 
Rhenish  Gibraltar,  with  the  Drachenfels,  and  the  other  six  moun 
tains,  whose  battlements  no  iron  shower  could  ever  quell ;  not 
even  the  classic  isle  near  Weissenthum,  where  the  French  cross 
ed  in  1797,  and  where  Caesar,  as  every  school-boy  well  remem 
bers,  crossed  upon  his  famous  bridge,  pictures  of  which  Anthon 
has  introduced  into  his  edition  to  gratify  the  youthful  curiosity, 
unsatisfied  with  the  knotty  text ;  not  the  <  banks  of  the  blue  Mo- 
zelle ,'  nor  the  rickety  old  ruin  called  the  Devil's  House  ;  not  all 
these  severally,  but  all  these  collectively,  form  a  complete  scene, 
where  romance   struggles  with  industry,  where  beauty  rises  up 
into  grandeur,  and   where    a  heritage    of  legendary  lore  floats 
around  and  above  them  all  in  strange,  dreamy  lustre.     There  is 
one  spot  nearly  opposite  the  Drachenfels,  around  which  romance 
has  woven  an  entrancing  story,  as  simple  as  it  is  touching.    The 
artist  has  represented  it  in  the  beautiful  vignette  upon  our  title 
page.    From  the  picture,  the  relative  position  of  mountain,  crags, 
river,  isle,  nunnery,  and  road  may  be  seen  ;  and  thus  the  eye  may 
aid  the  imagination  in  grouping  a  scene  whose  physical  charm 
is  enhanced  by  a  legend,  which,  for  the  honor  of  our  kind,  we 
hope  is  not  altogether  the  offspring  of  fiction.     The  spot  is  con 
secrated  to  the  memory  of  a  brave  knight,  Roland,  who  built 
upon  the  lofty  crown  of  the  mountain  a  tower  which  overlooks 
an  isle  to  which  his  lady  love  retired.     Bulwer  thus  tells  the 
legend :— Roland  goes  to  the  wars.     A  false  report  of  his  death 
reaches  his  betrothed.     She  retires  to  the  convent  in  the  isle  of 


342  DOWN  THE  RHINE, 

Nunnenworth,  which  yet  exists  as  the  vignette  represents  it,  and 
takes  the  irrevocable  veil.  Roland  returns  home,  flushed  with 
glory  and  hope,  to  find  that  the  very  fidelity  of  his  betrothed 
had  placed  an  eternal  barrier  between  them.  He  built  the  castle 
that  bears  his  name,  and  which  overlooks  the  monastery,  and 
dwelt  there  till  his  death ;  happy  in  the  power,  at  least  to  gaze, 
even  to  the  last,  upon  the  walls  which  held  the  treasure  he  had 
lost. 

There  is  a  mournful  tenderness  about  the  legend,  which  the 
scene  seems  to  reflect.  Indeed,  the  whole  margin  of  the  Rhine 
is  instinct  with  a  mournful  influence,  which  the  spirit  in  vain 
strives  to  repel. 

The  romance  of  the  Rhine  ends  before  you  reach  Cologne ; 
and  when  you  reach  that  city — Oh  !  spirit  of  Coleridge — what 
a  mire  !  what  a  hole  !  We  reached  there  in  a  drizzle,  and  left 
in  a  drizzle, — not  very  favorable  circumstances  under  which  to 
view  a  town,  celebrated  in  the  finest  transcendental  muse  for 
its  filth.  The  city  looked  well  from  the  river,  but  when  once  in 
the  streets,  there  was  nothing  but  sloppiness,  dirtiness,  and  mud- 
diness,  intolerable  ;  splashed  by  boys,  drays  and  horses,  draggled 
by  women's  dresses,  and  odorous  with  every  imaginable  scent, 
prime  and  distinguishable  among  which  is  the — eau  de  Cologne  ! 
Oh  !  ye  nymphs  of  Mud,  and  muses  of  Dirt !  I  distinctly  call 
upon  you  to  blot  out  from  my  mind  the  memory  of  Cologne.  If  a 
man  wishes  to  insult  me,  let  him  revive  that  memory  by  putting 
a  bottle  of  the  eau  under  my  nose — if  he  dares  ! 

The  city  has  a  heritage  of  Roman  renown.  Many  old  mon 
uments  remain  of  the  former  rulers,  and,  until  within  a  recent 
period,  the  '  better  sort'  were  in  the  habit  of  calling  themselves 
patricians,  as  descended  from  the  Roman  families.  Napoleon 
disturbed  these  little  fooleries,  among  a  good  many  others.  The 
unfinished  Cathedral  looms  up  from  a  great  distance,  as  we  dash 
away  towards  Aix-la-Chapelle — brilliant  contrast  of  Cologne — 
which  we  reach  by  cars  over  a  dead-level  land,  covered  with 
Nature's  richest  gold-dust,  viz.,  the  golden  wheat.  Neat  as  wax- 


AND  ACROSS  TO   WATERLOO.  343 

work,  elegant  and  white,  are  the  streets  of  this  city.  It  is  one 
of  the  magnificent  bathing  establishments  of  which  Germany 
boasts.  In  some  respects  it  should  not  boast.  Curiosity  led 
us  to  see  its  famous  gambling-hell  known  as  the  Redoute.  It 
was  lit  up  in  royal  style.  When  we  went  in,  a  brilliant  assem 
blage  were  in  the  conversation-room,  listening  to  a  concert  of 
Italian  music.  In  other  rooms,  the  tinkling  of  the  Napoleons 
and  thalers  resounded,  while  the  deep  silence  was  broken  by  the 
singsong  tone  of  the  bankers  at  the  rouge-et-noir  and  roulette 
tables  of  the  other  rooms.  We  enter.  There  are  loungers  on 
elegant  sofas.  Lamps,  shaded  with  green,  light  up  an  elegant 
table,  at  which  a  respectable  gray  head  presides,  and  around 
which  the  assistants  and  betters  are  ranged.  As  the  une,  trois, 
cinque,  turn  up  successfully  or  otherwise,  the  little  rakes  busily 
push  around  the  gold,  silver,  and  notes.  Occasional  betters 
stand  up ;  the  regulars  are  seated,  with  knit  brows  and  trem 
bling  hands  pricking  their  memoranda,  in  vain  attempting  to 
head  the  bank,  which,  however  Fortune  may  smile,  must  ulti 
mately,  by  a  surety  as  demonstrable  as  Euclid,  increase  its 
revenues  so  much  per  cent.  Ladies,  finely  dressed,  were  there, 
playing  with  more  sang-froid  than  the  men.  One  Yankee  might 
be  discerned,  with  a  flush  of  good  luck  upon  his  cheek,  and  the 
marks  of  verdancy  in  his  actions, — the  observed  of  all  observers. 
He  had  begun  with  a  thaler ;  was  lucky,  doubled  each  time  he 
won  ]  and  thus  regaining  all  he  lost,  he  continued  to  add  to  his 
store,  until  it  became  so  cumbrous  that  he  was  obliged  to,  and 
did,  in  the  flurry  of  excitement,  occasionally  use  his  hat  as  a 
reservoir.  .Some  one  observed,  in  a  whisper,  that  he  must  soon 
stake  his  hat ;  but,  shrewd  to  the  last,  he  quit  with  a  hat-full— 
enough  to  pay  his  way  to  a  land  where  such  gigantic  splendors 
of  Satan  are  not  licensed  by  government  nor  patronized  by  the 
rich. 

One  cannot  leave  such  a  place  without  the  reflection  that 
here  is  a  deeper  sin  than  that  which  tinkles  upon  the  ear  and 
glitters  upon  the  retina.  To  see  so  much  money  pass  from  hand 


344  DOWN  THE  RHINE, 

to  hand,  grasped  by  the  trembling  fingers  of  age  and  the  eager 

sweep  of  youth,  or  gathered  into  the  coffers  of  the  bankers, to 

know  that  this  is  the  representative  of  labor,  wrung  out  of  the 
soil  and  the  husbandmen  of  Khenish  Prussia, — l  must  give  us 
pause.'  Comes  it  from  the  great  estates  of  the  German  nobles, 
who  flock  here  to  the  baths  ?  Is  it  bled  by  the  patient  vine 
dresser  from  the  terraced  hills  of  the  Rhine  ?  It  matters  not ; 
whoever  thus  squanders,  does  man— suffering  man and  aveng 
ing  God,  disservice  and  great  wrong. 

What  a  condemnation  of  this  frivolity  frowns  from  the  old 
Cathedral  and  the  town-house  of  Aix,  where  Charlemagne  and 
the  emperors  once  trod,  with  no  soft  and  downy  step,  seeking 
pleasure. 

We  visited  the  Cathedral.  Although  heartily  tired  of 
seeing  so  many  churches,  we  coiild  not  leave  Aix  without  a 
sight  of  the  bones  of  Charlemagne,  which  are  kept  here  in  great 
state,  with  many  other  relics — such  as  the  sponge  which  held 
the  vinegar  at  the  crucifixion,  the  cord  that  bound  our  Saviour's 
hands,  and  portions  of  the  Cross.  In  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where 
Charlemagne  resided,  we  saw  the  portraits  of  Napoleon  and 
Josephine.  They  stand  beside  that  of  the  great  founder  of  the 
early  empire. 

In  leaving  Aix,  you  pass  through  a  country  once  the  abode 
of  the  Flemings,  and  even  yet  full  of  an  enterprising  manufac 
turing  people,  who  worthily  fill  the  places  of  those  early  pioneers 
to  whom  England  owes  her  great  manufacturing  prosperity. 
Tall  chimneys  and  glowing  forges  announce  the  appearance  of 
the  towns  ;  wheat-fields  divided  off  by  roads  shaded  with  trees 
like  those  of  Lombardy,  in  long  vistas — and  pastures  filled  with 
cattle  not  confined  by  fences — attest  a  splendid  agricultural 
country. 

Was  it  Liege,  or  some  other  Belgium  city,  where  the  out 
raged  people  pitched  seventeen  of  their  magistrates  out  of  the 
town-hall  windows ;  for  which  they  were  banished  the  realm  ? 
They  found  refuge  in  England,  and  formed  no  unimportant 


AND  ACROSS  TO   WATERLOO.  345 

link  in  the  chain  of  her  material  progress.  Liege  was  once  a 
free  city,  and  acted  a  daring  part  in  the  earlier  eras.  Occa 
sionally,  an  old  castle  would  leap  up  from  the  level,  as  we 
wound  along  the  valley  toward  Brussels.  The  villages  looked 
oddly  enough  in  their  dresses  of  pure  white,  with  red  roofs.  We 
soon  enter  upon  the  fighting  ground  of  Europe,  where  Marl- 
borough,  Wellington,  and  Napoleon  led  their  armies,  and  where 
many  a  brave  soldier  fell  under  the  iron  sleet. 

Busy  Brussels — neat  Brussels — beautiful  Brussels, — why  is 
it  that  I  cannot  dissociate  your  fine  promenades  and  elegant 
residences  from  that  field  of  blood  ?  Land  of  la^es, — Paris  in 
miniature — place  of  palaces, — splendid  Brussels,  did  ye  not 
tremble  at  the  roar  of  battle,  when  Europe  hung  in  the  balance, 
and  Destiny  for  ever  deserted  her  child? 

No  one  can  visit  Brussels  without  seeing  Waterloo  ;  no  one 
can  see  Waterloo  without  returning  with  the  impression  of  awe 
and  wonder  at  the  almost  superhuman  ability  and  strategy  of  the 
— vanquished.  True,  we  read  on  our  way  the  English  accounts 
of  the  battle,  the  despatches  of  Wellington,  and  of  that  bloody 
miscreant,  Blucher ;  true,  we  know  that  Wellington,  at  least 
when  the  Prussian  appeared  through  the  woods  on  the  left, 
pressed  on  to  victory;  true,  that  the  English  infantry,  like 
dogged  brutes  that  fear  not  death,  stood  solid  at  Hougoumont 
and  La  Haute  Sainte,  although  Jerome  Bonaparte  stormed  the 
former  tremendously  with  twelve  thousand  men ;  and  although 
attack  after  attack  was  made  in  quick  succession,  of  which  the 
broken  walls  and  burned  chateau  yet  give  evidence  ;  true,  that 
the  fiercest  charge  of  the  old  guard,  even  when  victorious,  was 
rendered  innoxious  by  the  cool  audacity  of  Wellington ;  yet,  not 
withstanding  all,  the  impression  remains,  that  the  genius  of  man 
and  the  brunt  of  the  fighting  was  with  the  French.  The  field 
of  the  dead — one-third  of  the  allied  army  thereon  lying,  pro 
claimed  the  dreadful  thunderbolt  which  Napoleon  hurled  upon 
that  18th  of  June.  We  visited  each  point,  and  saw  the  whole 
from  the  monument  of  the  Belgian  lion.  There  is  nothing 
15* 


346        DOWN  THE  RHINE,  AND  ACROSS  TO    WATERLOO. 

striking  in  the  field  itself.  A  crescent  valley,  with  two  hills, 
each  occupied  by  the  foe,  within  cannon  range ;  the  English 
having  all  the  natural  advantages,  the  French  doing  all  the 
marching  and  manoeuvring — these  are  the  features  of  the  bloody 
field.  The  traveller  treads  curiously  over  spots  where  Victory 
waved  her  ensign,  and  Death  reaped  his  sanguine  harvest ;  where 
the  hope  of  conquest  glowed  in  the  heart  while  life's  last  ebbing 
sands  were  running.  The  wheat  grows  finely  now  where  thou 
sands  fell  and  mouldered  ;  the  flax,  whose  elegant  warp  and 
woof  wrought  into  Brussels  lace  will  adorn  the  lady  in  her  par 
lor,  springs  out  of  the  ground  fructified  by  the  blood  of  the 
brave.  After  the  battle,  the  richest  crops  were  taken  from  the 
fields ;  and  nature  even  yet  struggles  on  silently  to  redeem  her 
self  from  the  stains  of  a  mighty  murder  by  the  kindest  processes 
of  vegetable  growth.  Man  may  struggle  with  his  brother,  and 
lie  down  upon  his  gory  bed,  and  he  may  call  it  glorious  ;  but 
God  wipes  away  the  evidences  of  such  glory  by  the  waving  of 
beautiful  plains.  "  Les  hommes  agitent,  but  Dieu  les  mene," 
says  Bossuet.  "  Men  agitate,  but  God  rules."  Never  was  there 
a  bolder  instrument  of  Providence  than  Napoleon.  His  history 
is  written  all  over  Europe.  All  the  pages  of  English  vitupera 
tion,  from  the  most  puerile  penny-a-liner  to  the  rankest  old  tory 
or  gravest  historian,  cannot  eradicate  or  tarnish  the  proud  evi 
dences  of  Napoleon's  greatness.  At  Naples,  in  the  roads  and 
buildings  ;  at  Venice,  in  the  improvements  he  there  made  ;  at 
Milan,  where  we  were  shown  what  Napoleon  did ;  at  Lisbon, 
where  he  turned  out  some  eleven  hundred  lazy  priests  to  clean 
the  filthy  city  ;  along  the  Rhine,  where  he  broke  up  nunneries 
by  the  hundred  ;  in  Paris,  where  I  now  write  almost  under  the 
shadow  of  his  splendid  monuments,  are  the  ineffaceable  proofs 
of  his  utilitarian  and  exhaustless  mind,  as  it  projected  works  for 
the  good  of  the  people,  and  it  must  be  confessed,  for  the  glory 
of  himself.  His  shadow,  not  himself,  now  rules  here  ;  yet  his 
shadow  is  more  powerful  this  day  in  France,  than  the  sunlight 
of  her  brightest  spirits. 


XXIX. 


44  France,  the  staple  of  new  modes, 
"Where  garbs  and  miens  are  current  goods, 
Prescribes  new  garnitures  and  fashions, 
And  how  to  drink  and  how  to  eat 
No  out-of-fashion  wine  or  meat, 
And  to  demonstrate  with  sufficient  reason, 
What  ribands,  all  the  year,  are  in  or  out  of  season." 

Butler. 

TWO  months  ago  we  left  this  city,  to  go,  we  knew  not  cer 
tainly  whither,  to  return,  Providence  permitting,  hither. 
We  have  completed  the  round,  —  from  Brussels  we  ran  over  by 
cars  to  this  centre  of  civilization  and  gayety,  poodle  dogs  and 
grind  organs,  Boulevards  and  promenades,  cafes  and  operas, 
military  displays  and  Sunday  fetes,  —  every  thing  to  divest  the 
mind  of  gravity  and  invest  it  with  the  illusory,  the  transient  and 
the  mobile. 

After  having  arrived  here  with  such  expeditious  good  luck, 
we  felt  like  laying  upon  our  oars  and  floating  down  the  stream 
of  Parisian  life,  without  effort,  amidst  its  ever-following  margin 
of  gayeties.  Youth  at  the  prow  and  pleasure  at  the  helm,  we 
have  floated  between  promenades  and  gardens,  flowers  and  tem 
ples,  colors  and  melodies,  —  every  object  that  excites  the  eye, 
ravishes  the  ear,  and  enfolds  the  senses  in  delight.  This  is 
surface  work.  It  looks  pretty  and  its  novelty  pleases.  Beneath 
the  surface  of  this  gay  world  there  lies  moral  filth  and  gross 
debasement.  Content  to  fret  the  surface,  we  have  not  stirred 
the  depths  of  the  mysteries  of  Paris. 

The  Lord   Mayor  of  London  and  his  train  have  been  here 


348  TnE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

the  past  week,  feasted  guests  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  invited 
visitors  to  Versailles  upon  Sunday,  attendants  upon  splendid 
operatic  performances,  and  wondering  gazers  at  the  sham  battle 
in  the  Champ  de  Mars,  on  the  6th  of  August.  The  Circuses 
have  brushed  up  their  horses  and  added  new  features  to  their 
bills  ;  the  promenades  have  been  newly  trimmed  and  the  palaces 
neatly  swept ;  the  manufactories  of  Gobelins  tapestry,  and 
Sevres  porcelain,  have  been  freely  opened,  and  a  general  entente 
cordiale  has  been  celebrated  between  the  "  perfidious  Albion- 
ites,"  and  the  testy  Gauls,  in  which  the  Juries  of  the  World's 
Exhibition  have  taken  part.  In  fine,  Paris,  always  a  fete  to  the 
stranger,  especially  to  a  Buckeye,  has  been  in  a  perfect  tip-top 
gala  ever  since  the  Lord  Mayor  arrived. 

1.   THE  GREAT  SHAM  BATTLE. 

"We  have  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  fete,  seeing  the  ebulli 
tion  and  hearing  the  bubbling.  A  loud  noise  it  made  at  the 
sham  fight  in  the  Field  of  Mars.  Fortunately  when  we  drove 
up  to  the  field,  we  met  the  Commissary  of  the  Police,  who 
readily  granted  us,  as  strangers  and  Americans,  a  pass  through 
the  guards  at  the  streets  leading  to  the  barriers.  He  eten  ex 
tended  to  us  the  courtesy  of  giving  us  a  whiskered  dragoon  with 
a  big  hat,  the  specific  gravity  of  which  was  very  disproportionate 
to  its  bulk,  by  whom  we  were  led  through  the  crowd,  and  ob 
tained  a  place  high  and  aloof,  commanding  a  view  of  the  field. 

The  fight  commenced  with  a  thunder  of  artillery  ;  then  vol 
leys  of  musketry  ;  then  parties  dashed  across  the  bridge  and  the 
fighting  became  close  and  severe, — very, — about  our  point. 
Soon  the  whole  army,  except  the  reserves,  were  in  action.  The 
artillery  roared,  the  flame  flashed  amid  rolling  volumes  of 
smoke,  the  bayonets  glittered  through  it  splendidly,  the  cavalry 
hi  long  columns,  with  ensigns  flying,  charged  hollow  squares, 
after  the  party  on  one  side  had  driven  back  the  assailants,  and 
had  in  their  turn  become  the  assailants.  It  was  a  magnificent 


THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL.  349 

sight  to  see  the  long  winding  trains  of  horsemen,  forming  into 
line  and  dashing  off  in  glittering  style  through  the  cloud  of  dust 
they  had  raised ;  then,  meeting  a  volley  of  cannon  and  guns, 
wheel  about  and  take  their  old  position.  During  the  cavalry 
evolutions,  the  excitement  of  the  crowd  became  intense.  People 
below  us  in  the  street,  were  hiring  fellows  to  let  them  have  the 
use  of  their  shoulders.  Lemonade-men  ceased  their  cries. 
Water-women  held  their  breath  ;  some  of  the  Parisian  "  b'hoys," 
or  blouses,  had  obtained  boards  and  were  scaling  the  terraces 
upon  which  the  crowd,  who  had  paid  most  liberally  for  them,  were 
intently  enjoying  the  spectacle.  A  real  fight  ensued  ;  illustrat 
ing,  in  a  twinkling,  by  the  interest  it  created,  how  much  more 
exciting  is  an  atom  of  earnestness  than  an  army  of  sham. 

Stationed  upon  a  fine  terrace,  overlooking  the  spot,  we  were 
in  the  midst  of  the  roar,  the  smoke,  the  din,  and  the — innocency 
of  the  battle.  Eighty  thousand  elegantly-dressed  soldiers,  glit 
tering  in  the  sun,  marching  in  infantry,  wheeling  and  curveting 
in  cavalry,  manoeuvring  with  artillery,  retreating,  advancing, 
detouring,  running,  thro  wing  bridges  over  the  Seine,  carry  ing  forts, 
defending  walls,  in  solid  columns,  in  open  order,  in  hollow 
squares,  in  videttes,  in  every  imaginable  figure  and  form  known 
to  the  Art  of  Death,  by  powder  and  steel,  with  trumpets  sound 
ing,  cannons  flashing  and  thundering,  musketry  rolling,  and  pen 
nons  waving  ;  all  working  out  upon  uneven  ground,  and  finally 
upon  the  beautiful  field  of  Mars,  the  problem  of  the  day,  and 
that,  too,  without  any  other  catastrophe  than  a  dragoon  hors  de 
combat,  is  a  sight  that  stirs  the  spirit,  while  it  does  not  disturb 
the  ordinary  flow  of  human  sympathy.  The  idea  of  the  battle 
was  this :  a  hostile  force  from  Passy  and  the  Bois  de  Bologne, 
which  was  behind  us,  move  on  to  take  the  Ecole  Militaire,  a 
strong  fortress,  having  the  Seine  in  front.  The  heights  of  Chail- 
lot  was  the  spot  where  the  contest  waged  hottest,  where  the  most 
— powder  was  spilt.  As  the  smoke  rolled  away  toward  the  right, 
the  assailants  were  seen  to  have  encompassed  by  their  cavalry 
the  infantry,  to  have  silenced  by  their  cannon  the  opposing  ar- 


350  THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

tillery ;  and  to  have  occupied  in  beautiful  array  the  field  of 
Mars  !  Such  enthusiasm,  such  a  turn  out,  never  could  be  found 
in  any  place  but  Paris.  At  least  five  hundred  thousand  people 
were  on  the  grounds  and  heights,  on  the  houses,  columns,  arches, 
woodpiles,  and  chimneys.  The  trees  which  lined  the  field  of 
battle  were  full  above,  and  under  them  was  a  long  mass  pf  peo 
ple,  stretching  out  at  least  a  mile  on  either  side.  As  the  battle 
progressed,  the  barriers  were  removed,  and  the  people  rushed 
through  in  living  floods  to  the  scene.  The  fortress  was  at  last 
taken ;  the  troops  filed  off  before  Louis  Napoleon  and  the  Lord 
Mayor,  the  crowd  broke  through  the  barriers  and  inundated  the 
Champs  Elysees,  where  in  great  packed  acres  they  stood  await 
ing  the  appearance  of  the  President.  He  appeared  under  escort 
of  the  National  Guard,  when  vivas  long  and  loud  went  up  to 
Napoleon  !  The  blouses,  as  well  as  the  better-dressed  citizens, 
joined  in  the  universal  hurrah  !  Universal  ?  Ah  !  there  were 
a  few  brave  fellows,  who  shouted  "  Viva  la  Republique  !"  I  tell 
you  that  this  great  nation  is  not  republican  yet,  save  in  name. 
There  is  no  principle  pervading  the  masses.  Their  enthusiasm 
is  purely  personal.  There  is  no  simplicity,  nor  love  of  inde-. 
pendence  in  their  movements.  Parade,  glitter,  pomp,  and  hero- 
worship,  is  the  idea  of  Parisian  society.  The  government  which 
can  furnish  the  greatest  quantity  of  gayety  and  glitter,  in  a  given 
time,  will  be,  at  least  for  a  time,  the  pet  of  the  people.  The  re 
volution  in  manners  must  precede  all  other  salutary  revolutions. 


2.  SABBATH  AT  VERSAILLES. 

Yesterday  was  Sunday  here.  I  will  avouch  to  its  being  the 
Sunday  of  the  Calendar ;  but  not  our  good  old  quiet  Sunday. 
It  was  a  Paris  Sunday,  with  a  few  extras.  Of  course,  you  would 
not  expect  us  to  be  so  Puritanic  as  not  to  see  a  Parisian  Sun 
day.  You  might  as  well  attempt  to  go  to  Naples  without  seeing 
Vesuvius,  Aix-la-Chapelle  without  seeing  a  gambling-hell,  or 


THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL.  351 

Venice  without  seeing  the  prisons  of  the  Council  of  Ten.  We 
heard  there  was  service  at  Versailles — Parisian  service — so  we 
struck  for  that  point.  There  were  some  sixty  or  seventy  thou 
sand  bent  in  the  same  direction.  As  it  was  the  first  Sunday  in 
the  month,  all  the  fountains  were  to  play,  and,  as  the  fete  was 
in  progress,  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  and  the  Exhibition 
Commissioners  were  to  be  there.  A  railroad  dashed  us  past  the 
far-famed  palace  and  park  of  St.  Cloud,  into  the  town  of  Ver 
sailles.  The  town  is  of  little  account,  though  in  the  time  of 
Louis  XIV.,  when  Royalty  revelled  so  splendidly,  it  contained 
100,000  people — one  third  of  which  number,  only,  are  there  at 
present.  The  grounds,  with  their  green  galleries  and  beautiful 
fountains,  their  innumerable  statues,  elegant  orangery,  intermi 
nable  walks  and  flower-gardens,  and  the  palaces, — these  make 
Versailles  the  great  resort  of  the  pleasure- loving  and  the  curious. 
Of  course,  you  would  not  expect,  nor  could  I  ever  give,  such 
a  detailed  description  of  Versailles  as  would  reproduce  it  to  the 
mind's  eye.  After  seeing  it,  one  should  make  his  will.  It  caps 
the  Seraglio,  beats  Hyde  Park ;  the  Luxembourg  in  Paris  is 
tame  beside  it ;  the  Brussels  promenade  is  fine,  and  so  is  that 
of  Naples ;  but  where,  in  all  our  views,  have  we  seen  any  thing 
comparable  to  Versailles  ?  Whether  it  is  the  magnificent  Place 
d'Armes,  rivalling  St.  Peter's  Piazza,  guarded  by  the  martial 
valor  of  France  in  the  colossal  statues  of  Conde,  Turenne,  and 
others,  and  all  commanded  by  the  majestic  equestrian  statue  of 
Louis  XIV.,  which  is  much  more  striking  than  that  of  Marcus 
Aurelius  in  the  Capitol  at  Rome  ;  whether  it  is  the  great  and 
little  Trianon,  palaces  famed  in  the  history  of  the  Queens  of 
France,  with  their  magnificent  prospects  of  lawn  and  wood, 
water-sheets  and  water-jets,  ranges  of  statuary,  gardens  of  flow 
ers  and  marble  basins ;  whether  it  is  the  galleries  of  paintings 
shaming  the  Vatican  in  the  richness  and  taste  of  their  decora 
tion  (indeed  Napoleon  as  King  of  Italy  was  as  free  in  his  appro 
priation  of  Italian  art,  as  railroads  are  of  real  estate  in  Ohio), 
and  illustrating  in  marble  the  scientific,  literary  and  martial 


352  THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

genius  of  the  nation,  and  upon  extensive  canvas  that  military 
glory  before  which  monarchs  paled  and  the  world  trembled ; 
wherever  you  go,  whatever  point  of  view  you  take,  from  palace 
window  or  upon  the  marble  stairway,  you  are  lost  in  the  variety 
of  objects,  each  one  a  chief  in  itself,  but  all  arranged  for  one 
brilliant  stroke  of  the  vision  over  an  expanse  of  area  utterly 
inconceivable  before  by  our  unsophisticated  mind.  Addison 
has  said,  that  the  sight  continues  longest  in  service,  affording 
for  a  longer  time  pleasure  and  delight,  through  its  inlet  to  the 
soul,  than  any  of  the  other  senses.  We  found  it  true  at  Ver 
sailles.  Without  fatigue  or  cessation,  it  ranged  from  hall  to 
hall ;  running  through  centuries,  from  Charlemagne  and  Pepin, 
down  to  Louis  Philippe  and  Charles  X.,  and  in  the  mean  time 
taking  in  all  the  splendid  efforts  of  art  from  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  of  the  Empire.  David's  pictures  of  the  Coronation 
of  Napoleon,  and  of  Napoleon  giving  the  Eagles  to  the  Army, 
fulfilled  every  anticipation  concerning  them  ;  but  the  chapel,  the 
frescoes,  the  landscape-paintings  in  which  battle-scenes  are  intro 
duced, — the  wonderful  effect  of  all  these  in  developing,  sustain 
ing,  and  giving  enthusiasm  to  French,  purely  French  nationality, 
I  had  not  before  any  adequate  conception  of. 

It  would  require  but  a  glance  at  the  painting  of  the  wounded 
Marshal  Lannes,  with  Napoleon  by  his  side,  or  of  Austerlitz 
with  the  figure  of  Bonaparte  proudly  eminent,  to  give  esprit  to 
the  army  of  France,  such  as  of  old  it  possessed  under  its  almost 
deified  General. 

This  palace  of  Versailles  was  formerly  a  hunting-lodge  for 
one  of  the  earlier  kings.  Additions  after  additions  were  made, 
millions  being  expended  in  their  construction,  until  the  Revolu 
tion,  after  which  it  sunk  into  decay.  Napoleon  preferred  to  live 
at  St.  Germain  or  St.  Cloud.  He  said  that  it  would  take  forty 
millions  of  francs  to  put  Versailles  in  repair.  Louis  Philippe 
had  it  in  excellent  order. 

Our  ladies  were  curious  to  see  the  Trianon,  and  especially 
the  little  Swiss  cottage  erected  by  order  of  Marie  Antoinette; 


THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL.  353 


but  as  I  attempted  to  go  by  the  soldier — a  laughing,  good- 
natured  fellow,  who  marched  under  the  signs  "  Propriete  na- 
tionale,"  and  "  Liberte,  Egalite  et  Fraternite" — he  called  out  for 
a  pass,  which  I  had  not  provided,  and  I  could  effect  no  frater 
nization  with  him,  by  which  to  gain  my  end. 

We  saw  a  great  crowd  looking  at  the  golden  royal  coach  of 
Charles  X.,  which  is  considerably  laughed  at  just  now.  It  may 
roll  through  these  arbors  and  green  lanes  yet,  with  a  Bourbon 
in  it ;  who  knows  ?  But  hurrah  !  here  is  a  rush  !  what  a  crowd 
of  Johnny  Bulls ;  and  there  they  go,  after  a  fine-looking  white- 
haired  gentleman  in  very  black,  who  is  being  led  around  into 
the  orangery  by  the  Prefect  of  the  Seine.  The  English  run 
after,  like  mad,  women  and  men,  fat  and  lean — mostly  fat. 
Aha  !  now  they  are  stopped.  A  French  soldier,  with  ribbons 
on  his  coat,  has  run  a  rope  across,  and  the  soldiers  are  trying  to 
guard  the  pass.  In  vain,  fat  Aldermen's  fat  wives,  perspiring 
like  the  frogs  in  yonder  fountain  of  Latona,  dodge  under,  clam 
ber  over,  escape  outstretched  arms,  and  caper  away  like  kittens, 
after  the  Lord  Mayor.  At  last  the  heft  (to  Yankee  it)  of  the 
crowd  is  stopped.  The  rest  present  tickets,  and  talk  JEZenglish 
quite  /^uselessly.  The  pageant  has  faded.  And  so  has  it  been 
all  day — a  chase  of  English  Aldermen,  and  their  consorts,  after 
the  Mayor,  who  is  hurried  along  by  the  Prefect  at  a  good  trot. 
It  was  a  scene  for  Punch. 

We  returned  home  to  see  Paris  by  night,  in  the  Champs 
Elysees,  Boulevards,  Luxembourg,  and  at  the  Cafes,  where 
concerts,  circuses,  and  amusements  of  every  variety,  keep  a  com 
pany  of  two  hundred  thousand,  if  not  more,  constantly  on  the 
qui  vive.  One  does  not  know  what  that  phrase  means,  until 
they  see  the  sights  here  on  Sunday.  If  there  be  any  churches 
here,  what  were  they  built  for  ?  The  question  has  been  answered 
in  a  former  chapter ;  they  are  but  mausoleums  over  the  buried 
great,  or  theatres  for  the  display  of  festal  and  regal  magnificence. 
They  were  built  for  man,  not  God. 


354        '  THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

3.  PERE  LA  CHAISE. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  places  of  resort  in  the  environs  of 
Paris  is  the  Pere  La  Chaise  cemetery.  There  is  a  peculiarity 
in  the  tombs,  and  a  beautiful  custom  connected  with  them,  well 
worthy  of  mention  and  imitation.  The  cemetery  lies  to  the 
northeast  of  the  city. 

We  passed  along  the  magnificent  quays  of  the  Seine,  crossed 
the  bridge,  and  stopped  before  the  monument  erected  upon  the 
spot  where  the  Bastile  of  the  old  regime  stood.  It  is  built  to 
the  memory  of  those  citizens  who  fell  on  the  memorable  three 
days  of  July,  1830,  which  dethroned  the  elder  Bourbons,  and 
made  Louis  Philippe  "  citizen  king."  The  monument  is  ele 
gantly  surmounted  with  a  gilded  image  of  Victory  winged,  stand 
ing  with  one  foot  on  tip-toe  upon  a  globe,  about  250  feet  high. 
The  image  is  exceedingly  aerial  and  graceful.  It  is  about  the 
height  of  the  majestic  column  to  Napoleon  in  the  Place  Ven- 
dome.  The  latter  is  modelled  after  that  of  Trajan  at  Rome, 
and  moulded  wholly  out  of  the  cannon  and  other  metallic 
trophies  taken  in  battle  by  the  Emperor. 

Through  streets  lined  with  marble  stores,  and  shops  where 
funereal  wreaths  are  made,  we  pass  up  to  the  cemetery.  Mourn 
ers  stop  to  buy  the  wreaths  of  yellow  and  white.  They  are  very 
touching,  and  expressive  of  kindly  sympathy.  Little  images, 
too,  of  persons  kneeling  or  mourning  are  bought,  and  all  are 
placed  upon  the  tombs,  either  within  upon  shrines,  or  without 
under  little  covers,  to  keep  them  from  rain  or  sun.  Almost 
every  tomb  was  thus  remembered.  Very  few  were  without  some 
token.  Many  had  flowers  growing  around  and  about  them,  most 
tastefully  arranged.  How  good — how  mindful  are  the  French  ! 
was  the  exclamation,  as  we  passeM  amid  these  emblems  of  life 
and  decay.  The  tombs  of  La  Place,  of  Volney,  La  Fontaine, 
and  of  David,  the  great  painter,  are  here.  Most  eagerly  we 
sought  for  the  tomb  of  Heloise  and  Abelard,  so  renowned  in 


THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL.  .        355 

song  and  story.  They  flourished  in  the  twelfth  century,  and 
were  two  of  the  most  distinguished  persons  of  their  age  in  learn 
ing  and  beauty ;  but  for  nothing  were  they  so  famous,  as  for 
their  unfortunate  passion.  After  a  long  course  of  calamities, 
they  retired  each  to  a  separate  convent,  and  consecrated  the 
remainder  of  their  days  to  religion.  Buried  in  life  thus  in  di 
vided  graves,  they  were  united  in  death  in  the  same  tomb  ;  not, 
however,  long  to  rest  together,  for  ecclesiastical  power  followed 
their  dust,  and  separated  it,  as  it  had  their  lives.  But  after 
many  vicissitudes,  they  lie  side  by  side,  as  is  beautifully  indi 
cated  by  the  sculptured  images  under  the  little  Gothic  temple 
which  affection  has  reared.  Wreaths  there  were  not  a  few,  upon 
their  tomb, — touching  tributes  to  that  constancy  and  attach 
ment  which  their  lives,  death  and  entombment,  typified  so  beau 
tifully.  White  roses  grow  plentifully  within  the  inclosure, 
chaste  symbols  of  a  love  which  death  has  not  quenched,  but  only 
purified.  We  plucked  one  rose  as  a  souvenir  of  the  spot,  and,  if 
any  cemetery  may  be  thus  called,  of  this  pleasant  abode  of  the 
departed. 

The  Pere  la  Chaise,  affords  a  fine  view  of  Paris,  which  we 
were  enjoying  as  the  bell  began  to  ring,  and  the  watch  of  the 
cemetery  began  to  cry  the  hour  of  departure  from  the  different 
points.  Taking  a  dish  of  berries  and  ices  at  a  cafe  (every  body 
here  lives  at  a  cafe),  our  party  went  to  the  hotel,  and  I  to  the 
Theatre  Comique,  to  see  Paris  in  another  phase  and  hear  a  funny 
opera. 

Let  not  the  lawyer  who  visits  Paris  fail  to  drive  down  to  the 
Palais  Justice,  and  observe  the  working  of  the  courts.  I  spent 
very  profitably  a  most  interesting  day  in  listening  to  the  judges 
and  lawyers.  The  latter  are  the  most  intelligent  and  best-look 
ing  gentlemen  I  have  seen  in  Europe.  I  know  that  remark  is 
superfluous.  Dressed  in  their  black  gowns,  and  black  caps  shaped 
like  the  segment  of  a  sugar  loaf, — they  move  about  from  court 
to  court  with  their  briefs  in  hand,  unincumbered  with  loads 
of  authorities  and  ever  ready  to  meet  their  cases.  I  heard 


356  THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

a  case  tried  by  jury,  and  noticed  many  little  improvements  upon 
our  present  mode  of  practice.  Their  custom  of  questioning  the 
accused  shortens  the  trial,  and  it  seems  not  at  all  inconsistent 
with  fairness.  The  repartee  even  between  prisoner  and  accuser, 
and  prisoner  and  judge,  while  it  excites  from  its  dramatic  cha 
racter,  generally  shows  where  the  blame  or  crime  lies.  Soldiers 
are  always  on  hand  to  preserve  order  and  protect  the  doors.  It 
was  a  sufficient  password  to  say  that  I  was  a  stranger,  in  order  to 
obtain  admittance.  There  are  some  eight  or  ten  judges  in  each 
of  the  courts.  A  good  feature  is,  that  the  lawyers  have  a  grand 
consultation  every  Saturday,  when  the  poor  may  obtain  gratuitous 
advice. 

4.  PARISIAN  MEDLEY. 

Now  I  know  that  it  is  not  the  province  of  a  transient  travel 
ler,  to  venture  too  far  in  generalizations  upon  national  character 
and  prospects.  He  is  liable  to  make  himself  ridiculous.  I  only 
speak  of  what  I  have  been  informed.  I  have  hardly  seen  enough 
foi»  a  respectable  induction  upon  any  subject.  The  proper  sub 
ject  of  a  traveller's  pen  is  the  superficial.  Of  that,— what  an 
area  has  my  eye  covered  !  what  multiform  objects  has  it  em 
braced  !  Can  I  enumerate  !  The  Hotel  des  Invalides,  where 
the  veterans  upon  wooden  legs  and  crutches  line  the  fine  walks, 
cultivate  their  little  flower  plots,  and  talk  of  Napoleon,  whose 
remains  are  entombed  within  the  chapel,  where  wave  two  hundred 
ensigns— trophies  of  his  valor  from  the  Pyramids  to  the  Snows ; 
the  Louvre,  that  noble  repertory  of  art,  surpassing  any  of  the 
gallerie^of  Italy— being,  in  fact,  the  choice  selection  from  them 
all— where  Ilubens  and  Vandyke  vie  with  Raphael  and  Caracci 
for  the  palm  of  genius,  where  Salvator  Rosa  and  Claude,  the  one 
in  bold  outline,  the  other  in  mellow  lustre,  reproduce  nature  in 
her  loveliest  aspect,  where  the  holiest  of  beings  beams  benignly 
from  the  wall  on  the  canvas  of  Murillo,  and  where  the  German 
Bacchanals  drink  beer  with  such  a  jollity,  that  the  canvas  fairly 


THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL.  357 

laughs  ;  the  Tuileries  with  its  palace,  where  Louis  Philippe  once 
lived  with  his  family,  still  preserved  (with  some  few  marks  of 
popular  fury)  as  it  was  in  1848,  when  Grirardin  recommended 
the  abdication,  which  ended  in  an  airing  on  horseback  ;  and  its 
gardens,  which  are  only  rivalled  in  tasteful  walks,  manifold 
flower-beds,  beautiful  fountains,  and  luxuriant  orangeries  by  the 
Luxembourg, — where  the  taste  of  the  Medici  family  is  still  pre 
served,  notwithstanding  Louis  Blanc  held  socialist  meetings  there, 
and  notwithstanding  soldiers  have  rendezvoused  in  the  gilded 
rooms  ;  the  museum  of  artillery,  where  the  arms  of  France,  from 
the  invasion  of  Gaul  down  to  the  last,  revolution,  are  displayed, 
including  the  armor  of  Joan  of  Arc,  and  the  delicate  festoonery 
of  the  entrance  hall,  in  the  shape  of  the  iron  chain  which  the 
Turks  used  at  the  siege  of  Vienna,  to  construct  a  ponton  bridge 
over  the  Danube  ;  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  where  the  roar  of  the 
beasts  does  not  in  the  least  disturb  the  silent  putting  forth  of 
the  fragrant  flowers  ;  where  the  cedar  of  Lebanon  grows  within 
sight  of  the  anaconda's  den ;  where  the  delicate  tamarind  tree 
and  flowering  magnolia  are  arranged  in  the  same  home  with  the 
gazelle  and  rhinoceros ;  where  geology  and  botany  have  their 
halls,  and  the  most  disgusting  lizard  and  snake  their  hiding- 
place  ;  where  all  is  scientifically  arranged,  and  within  whose  centre 
is  a  bower  and  a  summer-house  overlooking  the  whole,  and  afford 
ing  a  splendid  view  of  Paris  ; — and  above  all  embracing  a  Sab 
bath  evening,  with  its  concerts  in  the  open  air,  its  crowded  cafes, 
its  immense  promenades,  a  living  and  moving -mass  of  blouses 
and  monsieurs,  fine  ladies  and  mademoiselles  in  neat  caps,  the 
amusements,  Punch  and  Judy,  cross-bow  firing  at  plasters,  bil 
liards,  wooden-horse  riding,  circuses  performing,  music  playing, 
cat  and  dog  entertainments,  children  with  little  balloons,  amidst 
glancing  lights  and  spraying  fountains,  gardens  of  the  rarest 
flowers,  and  shadows  of  arched  trees,  mingled  with  the  everlast 
ing  jabber  and  gay  laugh  of  the  French  ;  which  latter  is  not  the 
least  wonderful  phase  of  this  city  of  wonders.  But  why  enume 
rate,  where  there  is  so  much  to  be  seen  ?  There  is  indeed  "  but 


358  THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

one  Paris."  The  world  of  science,  politics,  and  of  luxury,  has 
here  its  heart.  Its  throbs  are  great,  and  penetrate  the  remotest 
part  of  Europe,  aye,  even  extending  world-wide. 

Yet  one  cannot  but  feel  that  the  jaw  of  destruction  opens 
wide  to  ingulf  this  city.  A  few  centuries  more,  and  the  curious 
traveller  may  wander  along  the  ruined  quays  of  the  Seine,  now 
adorned  with  so  many  bridges  and  walls,  noting  the  piles  where 
once  stood  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  from  which  Lamartine  held  the 
populace  enchained  by  the  beauty  of  his  diction  and  the  spell  of 
his  noble  thoughts ;  or  wondering  at  the  brass  column  to  Napo 
leon,  eternal  as  his  fame,  towering  up  amidst  decay ;  or  at  the 
despoiled  gardens  and  palaces  of  this  pleasure-maddened  city. 
If  the  godlessness  of  a  people  is  any  indication  of  a  future, 
imagination  may  revel  in  the  ruins  of  the  future  Paris.  May  it 
not  conceive  yon  Place  de  la  Concorde,  now  glittering  with 
lights,  musical  with  fountains,  and  crowded  with  pe'ople, — where 
Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette  were  beheaded, — as  waving 
with  the  ripe  corn,  or  chaotic  in  ruins,  like  the  palace  of  the 
Caesars'?  Or  may  we  not  rather  hope  that  France,  springing 
from  the  mire  of  moral  degradation,  shall  rise  in  the  newness  of 
a  civilization,  in  which  republican  simplicity  shall  walk  hand  in 
hand  with  Christian  truth  ? 

We  yesterday  visited  the  tombs  of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  in 
the  basement  of  the  Pantheon.  France  venerates,  at  present, 
too  highly  their  splendid  intellects,  to  permit  her  to  dissociate 
the  effect  of  their  genius  from  their  glaring  vices.  On  the  tomb 
of  Voltaire  is  the  following :  "  II  combattit  les  athees  et  les 
fanatiques,  inspira  la  tolerance  et  reclama  les  droits  de  1'homme 
centre  la  servitude  de  la  feodalite."  I  thought  the  commentary 
of  our  refugee-republican-Roman  courier  most  excellent.  In  his 
tolerable  English  he  said,  after  reading  it :  "  France  built  this 
Pantheon  to  her  grand  hommes,  who  "wrote  for  liberty,  and — she 
go  to  Rome  to — kill  Liberty;"  and  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
he  turned  away  to  read  the  inscription  on  Rousseau's  tomb : 
"  Here  reposes  the  man  of  nature  and  of  truth  ;"  not  knowing 


THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL.  359 

how  significant  of  French  fate  was  the  sentiment  thus  graven 
upon  the  toinb  of  a  man  whose  life  gave  the  lie  to  all  his  beau 
tiful  raptures  on  truth  and  virtue. 

.  The  same  thing  is  discernible  now,  in  the  public  men  of 
France.  They  talk  political  abstractions  in  pert,  pithy,  pretty, 
curt  sentences ;  but  when  they  undertake  to  do — Humph ! 
Dominichino  would  shrug  his  shoulders  again.  France  needs 
ome  such  men  as  Lafayette — content  to  be  useful,  rather  than 
splendid  ;  practical,  instead  of  brilliant. 

5.  LAFAYETTE'S  TOMB. 

"We  thought  that  we  could  not  do  better  upon  our  second 
Sabbath,  especially  in  Paris,  than  to  visit  Lafayette's  grave.  It 
is  sought  after  by  few,  and  these,  I  am  proud  to  say,  are  Ameri 
cans.  The  coachman  could  not  find  the  street,  without  some 
difficulty.  A  long  ride  up  the  Faubourg  de  St.  Antoine,  brought 
us  to  the  Rue  de  Picpus,  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  city.  A 
convent,  now  occupied  by  the  "  Sisters  of  Charity,"  and  an  old 
chapel  of  Doric,  surround  the  tomb  of  Lafayette.  We  walked 
through  long  arbors  of  grapes  and  flowers,  amid  the  tidy-looking 
elderly  dames — all  dressed  in  their  white  dresses  and  whiter 
bonnets,  until  we  turned  into  a  narrow,  treeless  cemetery,  where 
among  the  Montmorencies,  Rosambos,  and  other  noble  families 
of  France,  reposes  the  friend  of  America  and  of  Washington. 
A  large  slab  covers  the  grave  of  himself  and  wife ;  and  near  by 
are  the  remains  of  George  Washington  Lafayette,  his  son,  who 
died  in  1849.  The  victims  of  the  reign  of  terror  lie  around 
them.  A  few  wreaths  decorate  the  bare  tomb.  A  deep  and 
solemn  quiet,  in  strange  contrast  to  the  ever-rushing  tide  of  the 
streets,  reigned  within  this  sacred  home.  I  loved  this  spot.  It 
reminded  me  of  our  own  simple  American  graveyards.  No 
mark  of  nobility,  no  heraldic  armor,  was  engraved  upon  the 
tomb.  No  old  soldiers  are  here  to  guard  it ;  no  lofty  column 
rises  to  the  memory  of  the  good  and  genial  Lafayette.  But  he 


360  THE  FRENCH  CAPITAL. 

has  a  monument  more  durable  than  brass.  It  is  in  the  heart  of 
America.  As  time  lapses,  we  should  cherish  more  deeply,  and 
care  with  nicer  heed  for,  those  revolutionary  soldiers  and  patriots, 
who  worked  out  so  excellent  a  constitution,  through  so  much 
difficulty  and  danger. 

We  have  no  long  line  of  kings  to  emblazon  in  splendor  the 
historic  page,  or  palaces  full  of  their  pictures  and  trophies  ;  we 
have  no  dim  old  cathedrals,  hallowed  with  the  footsteps  of 
mighty  cardinals  and  priests,  and  almost  groaning  with  their 
weight  of  marble  honors  ;  we  have  no  battles  to  boast  of  so 
scourging  and  bloody  as  Borodino  and  Austerlitz;  but  we  have  a 
history  rich  in  spiritual  independence,  and  eventuating  in  a 
government,  which  Lord  Brougham  has  truly  called,  the  highest 
refinement  in  civil  polity  which  the  world  has  ever  seen.  We 
have  in  our  historic  annals  the  name  of  at  least  the  purest,  if 
not  the  greatest  of  Frenchmen— Lafayette !  His  remains  sleep 
quietly,  sequestered  among  the  kindly  sisters  of  charity.  No 
revolution  will  exhume  them,  as  were  exhumed  the  proud  kings 
at  St.  Denis.  Respect,  if  not  enthusiasm,  and  never  obloquy, 
will  attend  his  memory.  Americans  will  always  delight  to 
leave  the  din  of  the  great  city,  to  search  out  and  honor  his 
simple  tomb. 


XXX. 

,—  in  ntjjrc 


"  These  struggling  tides  of  life  that  seem 
In  wayward,  aimless  course  to  tend, 
Are  eddies  of  the  mighty  stream 
That  rolls  to  its  appointed  end." 

Bryant. 

WELL,  it  came  over  one  right  goodly,  to  reach  a  spot  where 
one  does  not  have  to  call  our  old  homely  Saxon  words  by 
such  outre  and  unaccustomed  terms.  To  say  breakfast,  instead 
of  "  dejeune.  monsieur  ;"  to  say  "  how  much  ?"  instead  of  that 
everlasting  "combien?"  to  feel  that  you  are  understood  and 
heeded  without  acting  it  out  like  a  player,  was  indeed  a  relief. 

On  our  ride  up  to  London  from  Dover,  the  English  country 
did  not  look  so  attractive  as  when  we  saw  it  in  the  beginning  of 
June,  all  fresh  and  green  in  its  primal  garniture.  Perhaps  the 
scenes  which  Italy  and  the  Alpine  valleys  had  pencilled  and 
laid  away  in  memory's  portfolio,  detracted  from  the  rural  beau 
ty  ;  perhaps  the  fields  bared  of  their  grain,  and  wanting  that 
rich,  golden  yellow  which  interlaced  the  fertile  vales  of  the 
Rhone  and  of  the  Aar.  have  contributed  to  disparage  the  aspect 
of  the  country  ;  and  perhaps,  our  eyes  have  been  sated  with  na 
tural  views.  No  matter,  London  —  London  has  lost  nothing  of 
its  attractions  by  our  continental  tour. 

There  is  a  kind  of  incredulity  attaching  itself  to  all  the  as 
sociations  of  ancient  renown  and  power,  which  cling  around 
the  places  we  have  visited  upon  the  continent.  We  cannot 
more  than  half  believe  that  the  Doges  of  Venice  ruled  with 
such  splendor  and  power;  that  Athens  was  the  theatre  of 
16 


362  LONDON— IN  OTHER  PHASES. 

such  mighty  deeds  and  noble  thoughts ;  that  Monza  was  the 
glittering  capital  of  ancient  Lombardy,  with  its  kings  and 
queens  ;  that  the  Mediterranean  was  the  scene  of  crusading 
thousands  led  by  knightly  prowess  ;  that  Charlemagne  ruled 
along  the  Rhine  with  such  pomp « of  empire,  enacting  deeds  of 
high  emprise, — all  these  and  other  relations  of  places  to  history, 
enter  like  shadows  into  the  temple  of  faith,  and,  like  shadows, 
soon  depart.  But  when  it  comes  to  England — when  it  comes  to 
London,  with  her  bridges  and  her  Whitehalls,  her  palaces  and 
her  Tower, — her  historic  incidents  enter,  with  a  stern,  substan 
tial,  ringing  step  upon  the  portal,  and  challenge  every  form  of 
doubt  or  overcome  all  incredulity.  When  to-day  we  entered  the 
Tower,  the  dark  and  bloody  history  of  England  was  turned  over 
rapidly  and  tangibly  by  the  wizard  of  the  past,  as  each  object 
aroused  its  familiar  and  undoubted  chronicle. 

The  gateways  we  found  crowded.  Presently  we  purchased 
our  tickets  for  the  armory  and  jewel  room.  Then  we  were  com 
pelled  to  wait  until  the  warder  had  collected  a  goodly  number, 
when  off  we  marched  with  him  to  inspect  and  wonder.  These 
warders  are  numerous.  They  are  dressed  in  their  ancient  cos 
tume — the  same  as  that  worn  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.  It 
consists  of  a  cap  ribboned  off  gaudily,  and  a  coat  in  the  form 
of  a  blouse,  gilded  all  over,  with  a  crown  on  the  breast  and  back 
boldly  emblazoned.  They  are  appointed  from  the  army  on  ac 
count  of  their  good  character.  The  warder  assigned  us  was  a 
fine  old  Johnny  Bull,  who  had  a  peculiar  fondness  for  Ameri 
cans.  He  lugged  me  out  of  the  crowd  at  every  turn,  to  display 
what  he  considered  as  much  our  history  as  England's.  He  said 
that  he  had  no  doubt  that  some  of  our  ancestors  had  walked 
around  these  places.  I  hoped  that  they  had  not  been  too  familiar 
with  some  parts  of  the  premises.  It  made  one  feel  quite  antique 
to  be  guided  about  these  old  palaces  and  prisons  by  so  odd  a 
looking  personage  as  our  warder.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  aspi 
rate  and  the  want  of  it  in  the  wrong  places,  I  could  easily  have 
transported  our  cockney  warder  at  least  into  the  age  of  Harry  the 


LONDON,— IN  OTHER  PHASES.  353 

Eighth,  or  have  placed  him  in  charge  of  one  of  the   Fairy 
Queen's  castles. 

Many  persons  wonder  why  England  suffers  the  Tower  to 
stand.  Its  darkness  and  gloom,  to  say  nothing  of  its  history, 
are  in  such  bold  contrast  with  the  fine  structures  and  elevated 
civilization  of  the  present  day,  that  it  seems  strange  that  it  has 
not  suffered  the  fate  of  the  Bastile.  Hallam  has  perhaps  given 
the  best  image  of  the  Tower  as  well  as  the  best  reason  for  its 
preservation,  when  he  says,  '  that  it  seems  like  a  captive  tyrant, 
reserved  to  grace  the  triumph  of  a  glorious  republic,  and  that  it 
should  teach  us  (Britons)  to  reflect  in  thankfulness,  how  highly 
we  have  been  elevated  in  virtue  and  happiness  above  our  forefa 
thers.'  Truly  there  is  a  lesson  to  be  learned  from  its  old  stones, 
its  murderous  blocks,  its  manifold  modifications  of  force,  its  soli 
tary  cells,  its  chivalric  armors,  and  its  costly  regalias — a  lesson 
of  humility  and  of  dependency  upon  an  arm  greater  than  that 
of  flesh ;  the  lesson  taught  by  the  text  cut  in  the  prison  room 
occupied  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  which  I  read  to-day — "  Be 
faithful  unto  the  deth:  and  I  wil  give  the  a  croivne  of  life  /' 

The  Tower  dates  from  the  Conqueror.  Although  some  parts 
of  it  look  new  and  lack  gloom,  yet  there  are  others  which  have 
that  streaked  and  blackened  appearance  which  the  oldest  stone 
in  northern  climes  always  presents.  We  surveyed  the  interior ; 
noted  with  interest  the  prison  of  the  seven  bishops,  whose  trial 
Macaulay  graphically  depicts,  and  upon  whose  acquittal,  such  a 
momentous  change  occurred  in  the  British  dynasty  and  consti 
tution  ;  looked  curiously  at  the  famous  stone  and  mortar  known 
as  the  White  tower,  which,  performed  a  star  part  in  the  drama 
of  the  great  charter  and  King  John,  and  which  so  many  of  the 
Plantagenets  used  as  a  palace  and  a  prison  5  and  more  curiously 
still,  and  not  without  a  shudder,  at  the  Bloody  Tower,  which 
tradition  and  Shakspeare  have  rendered  so  horrible,  as  the  scene 
of  the  suffocation  of  the  young  princes,  nephews  of  the  Duke  of 
Gloster,  Richard  III.  There  is,  however,  considerable  doubt 
as  to  the  authenticity  of  the  relation,  which  makes  that  part 


364  LONDON,— IN  OTHER  PHASES. 

of  the  old  pile  so  horrible.     The  underground  compartments 
we  did  not  see.     It  was  enough   to   mark   the   Traitor's  gate, 
with  its  portcullis,  ready  even  yet  to  gnash  its  grim  teeth  upon 
the  victim  as  he  enters  from  the  Thames,  under  the  stone  arch, 
and  up   the  fatal  steps  ;  enough,  to  recall  the  great  and  good 
who  have  here 'suffered  for  popular  freedom  and  religious  faith. 
We  passed  some  time  in  gazing  at  the  kings  and  celebrated 
men    of    England,— clad    in   their    own   identical    armor,    and 
mounted  upon  horseback.     They  were  tastefully  arranged  in 
what  is  called  the  Horse  Gallery.     The  most  conspicuous  among 
them  all  was  the  gross  form  of  that  rough  brute,  Henry  VIII., 
and  the  despicably  mean-looking  visage  of  James  II.    Cromwell 
Villiers,  Stafford,  and  others  whose  names  are  a  part  of  English 
history,  were  there.     Above  each  king  was  arranged  in  stars, 
the  peculiar  arms  of  the  period. 

We  enjoyed  the  visit  to  the  Regalia  room,  where  the  crown 
jewels  and  crowns  are  kept.  They  are  worth  the  enormous  sum 
of  fifteen  millions  of  dollars — nearly  equal  to  Ohio's  state  debt  ! 
The  warder  well  remarked,  that  we  would,  in  our  country,  hardly 
keep  so  much  wealth  idle.  I  told  him,  that  we  would  apply  it, 
perhaps,  toward  paying  off  the  national  debt,  especially,  if  it 
amounted  to  eight  hundred  millions. 

We  were  shown  the  block  upon  which  Lady  Jane  Grey,  Es 
sex,  and  Raleigh  suffered,  as  well  as  some  horrible  implements 
of  torture.  The  latter  were  marked,  "  captured  from  the  Span 
ish."  I  supposed  that  they  were  perfectly  at  home  in  the  Tower, 
if  we  may  rely  upon  history.  Besides,  what  kind  of  a  war  trophy 
would  be  one  of  these  engines  of  misery  ?  What  general  would 
wish  his  triumph  graced  by  such  an  instrument  ? 

The  crowning  interest  which  belongs  to  the  Tower,  is,  that  it 
has  been  the  prison  of  those  who  dared  to  assert  the  rights  of 
Englishmen,  who  stood  up.  in  the  face  of  arrogant  kings,  to  pro 
claim  that  the  people  alone  had  the  divine  right  to  control  their 
own  destiny.  These  brave  spirits  never  suffered  the  house  of 
Tudor  or  of  Stuart  to  repose  for  a  moment  upon  a  couch  of 


LONDON,— IN  OTHER  PHASES.  365 

roses.  Such  men  as  Peter  Wentworth  in  Elizabeth's  time,  and 
Coke  and  Selden  in  the  time  of  James  I.,  were  the  true  fore 
runners  of  the  Pyms.  Hanipdens,  and  Fiennes  of  a  later  day. 
They  verified  the  French  couplet, 

Le  roi  d'Angleterre 
Est  le  roi  d'Enfer. 

';  The  King  of  England  is  the  king  of  hell."  And  although  the 
Tower  with  its  torments  awaited  them,  still,  like  their  transat 
lantic  descendants  upon  similar  great  issues,  they  knew,  and 
dared  to  maintain  their  privileges  against  the  royal  prerogative. 
One  cannot  have  an  adequate  idea  of  the  immensity  of  the 
brick  and  mortar,  known  as  London,  without  going  up  into  some 
lofty  point,  such  as  the  cupola  of  St.  Paul's.  Under  the  smoky 
obscurity  there  lies  far — far  around  as  the  eye  can  see,  one  con 
tinuous,  compact  mass  of  buildings,  interpersed  with  handsome 
spires,  and  divided  by  the  Thames — upon  which  is  seen,  darting 
from  pier  to  pier,  the  little  steamers  which  ply  from  Chelsea  to 
Greenwich.  Paris  is  easily  bounded,  Constantinople  you  may 
take  in  at  one  large  view,  Naples  lies  along  the  bay,  and  in  the 
clear  air  may  be  comprehended  at  a  glance  ;  but  London,  and 

"  The  villas  with  which  London  stands  begirt 
Like  a  swarth  Indian,  with  his  belt  of  beads," 

forms  its  own  horizon  of  houses,  while  whole  cities  lie  beyond. 
From  St.  Paul's,  whence  we  viewed  the  city,  the  beautiful  parks 
were  scarcely  discernible  ;  the  new  houses  of  Parliament  and 
Westminster  arose  conspicuously,  and  the  streets  about  St. 
Paul's,  sent  up  their  incessant  hum  and  rattle. 

We  have  visited  the  Tunnel  of  the  Thames — a  bazaar  under 
a  river — that  is  all.  Indeed  there  are  few  sights  worth  a  visit, 
which  we  have  not  seen.  A  promiscuous  world  is  London, 
with  its  Zoological  Gardens,  where  we  saw  the  hippopotamus, 
"  wallowing,  unwieldy,"  and  an  orang-outang  that  looked  more 


366  LONDON— IN  OTHER  PHASES. 

like  a  human  being  than  some  negroes  I  wot  of;  with  its  Northum 
berland  House,  where  the  lion  of  Percy  faces  the  form  of  Nelson 
upon  his  column  at  Trafalgar  Square ;  with  its  Kew  Gardens, 
where  the  tamarind-tree  and  the  bread-plant  thrive  beside  the 
broad-leaved  palm  and  the  flowering  magnolia,  and  where  every 
vegetable  production,  from  the  cedar  of  Lebanon  to  the  hyssop 
upon  the  wall,  grows  and  creeps  ;  with  its  ever  polite  policemen, 
its  saucy  cabmen,  its  jostling  crowds  in  which  rudeness  is  taken 
for  manliness  ;  with  its  great  Brewery — how  can  I  forget  that, 
after  the  difficulty  we  had  in  attaining  an  insight — belonging  to 
Barclay  &  Perkins,  generally  known  in  America  as  the  place 
of  Haynau's  disgrace, — but  better  known  as  the  reservoir  of  one- 
fourth  of  the  ale  and  stout  of  the  kingdom.  We  went  through 
the  establishment  entire.  I  wondered  somewhat  at  the  wine 
cask  of  Heidelberg  ;  but  found  here,  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
two  larger  beer  kegs,  each  one  of  which  holds  not  less  than  two 
thousand  barrels,  and  the  larger  ones,  three  thousand  five  hundred. 
The  other  operations  are  on  a  similar  extensive  scale.  Exeter 
Hall  preaches  temperance  in  vain,  against  such  a  monster. 
BULL  must  'ave  'is  hale. 

The  English  are  a  credulous  people.  They  will  believe 
almost  any  thing  of  Americans.  "We  took  tea  with  a  very  re 
spectable  family  the  other  day,  and  were  amused  to  find  how 
much  of  prejudice  and  misconception  we  could  remove  with 
ease.  They  believed  that  we  all  drank  gin-slings  and  "  Tom 
and  Jerry  ;"  that  we  were  every  day  or  so  regaled  with  lynch-law, 
and  that  "  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,"  were  very 
precarious  franchises,  especially  in  the  west  of  America.  A 
red-headed  doctor,  who  attended  me  a  while,  gave  as  a  reason 
for  not  going  to  America  the  following,  after  his  peculiar  style : 
"  Suppose  a  man's  robbed, — by  a  red-headed  rascal ;  people  mad 
— see  my  hair — get  a  rope — nearest  tree— I  swing — d'ye  see  ?" 

The  manuscripts  of  Bacon,  Pope,  Newton  and  others,  at  the 
Museum,  we  looked  at  long  and  curiously.  The  original  Magna 
Charta  is  preserved  there.  The  Jerusalem  Delivered  of  Tasso, 


LONDON,— IN  OTHEE  PHASES.  367 

is  also  there,  in  the  handwriting  of  Tasso.  There  too  are  the 
relics  of  Nineveh,  sent  home  by  Layard,  the  indefatigable- 
English  gold  has  been  potent  in  drawing  together  such  a  fine 
collection. 

You  have  heard  of  GOG,  the  Roman  soldier,  and  MAGOG,  the 
Ancient  Briton,  who  preside  over  Guildhall,  and  have  in  their 
keeping  the  ancient  municipality.  Well,  we  saw  the  old  genii, 
sure  enough.  Quaint  and  odd — painted  in  divers  colors,  and 
looking  very  grandly  foolish,  stuck  up  in  their  corners, — they 
constitute  one  of  the  sights  of  London,  never  to  be  omitted.  As 
soon  omit  seeing  the  Bronze  Wolf  at  the  Roman  Capitol,  or  the 
bears  at  Berne. 

Rain  and  sunshine  alternate  here  every  other  hour.  The  air 
is  thus  kept  delightfully  cool.  The  nights  are  beginning  to 
grow  cold.  Indeed,  we  have  had  plain  indications  of  the  approach 
ing  fall.  Driving  through  St.  James's  Park,  we  noticed  the 
maples  already  shedding  their  leaves,  and  bestrewing  the  walks. 
Royal  parks  and  American  woods  own  a  kindred  nature,  and 
together  obey  the  great  law  of  decay  and  growth.  By  analogy 
we  would  conclude  that  the  same  great  law  comprehends  the 
royal  occupants  of  St.  James  and  the  humblest  tenant  of  our 
log  cabins, — a  simple  truth  which  will  bear  pondering  with 
profit.  Death  knows  no  distinction  or  rank.  God  knows  none, 
save  that  which  distinguishes  the  pure  in  heart  from  the  vile. 

What  a  home  for  crime  and  vice  is  London  !  To  the  travel 
ler  this  does  not  appear  so  readily.  A  few  hours'  observation 
in  the  Mayor's  court  revealed  more  than  I  could  have  learned 
by  going  about  the  streets  for  a  year.  During  those  few  hours, 
a  crowd  of  tattered,  miserable  beings  were  lodging  their  com 
plaints,  or  being  tried  for  petty  crimes.  Police  officers  were 
bringing  in  offenders  of  high  and  low  degree.  They  have 
curious  and  rapid  modes  of  justice  here.  Immediately  below 
the  court-room  are  the  prisons,  which  consist  of  little  wicker 
cages.  A  trap-door  opens,  and  after  the  manner  of  Banquo's 
ghost,  there  arises  from  below,  the  prisoner.  By  his  side  is  the 


368  LONDON,— IN  OTHER  PHASES. 

policeman.  The  attorney  for  the  city  states  the  charge.  The 
judge  requests  the  policeman  to  give  evidence.  He  thus  pro 
pels  :  "  I  found  three  and  a  half  pounds  of  tobacco  hid  upon  the 
prisoner's  person,  after  I  had  asked  him  if  he  had  any  contra 
band  goods,  and  after  he  had  denied  having  any.  There  is  a 
duty  of  nine  shillings  and  threepence  per  pound,  your  honor." 

Judge. — "  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  this  ?" 

Prisoner. — "  Please  your  honor,  I  gave  three  shillings  for 
it,  to  send  it  down  to  my  friends  at  Ramsgate." 

Judge. — "  Why  did  you  conceal  it  ?" 

Prisoner — Mum. 

Judge. — "  You  are  sentenced  to  fourteen  days'  imprison 
ment,  or  to  pay  a  fine  of  twenty  shillings." 

The  trap  door  opens  ;  exit  prisoner,  saying,  "  I  gave  my  last 
shilling  for  the  tobacco  ;  I  can't  pay  the  fine,  zur." 

I  would  have  liked  exceedingly  to  have  had  the  privilege  of 
visiting  the  courts  of  Westminster,  but  they  will  not  be  in  ses 
sion  till  November.  The  Old  Bailey  must  repay  in  part  for  the 
disappointment. 

I  visited  the  '  Old  Bailey '  to  see  that  famous  criminal- 
mill  grind  out  a  batch  of  offenders.  My  friend,  the  City  Soli 
citor,  was  on  hand  at  the  indictment  office,  preparing  his 
indictments  for  the  Grand  Jury  ;  but  he  found  time  to  give  me 
a  prominent  place  from  which  to  observe  the  operations.  In  the 
first  court,  they  were  arraigning  the  newly  indicted,  which  was 
done  in  droves,  classified  according  to  their  crimes.  The  other 
court  was  more  interesting.  It  moved  like  clockwork.  The 
court-rooms  are  not  so  fine  as  those  of  the  Palais  Justice  ;  and 
I  missed  the  beautiful  painting  of  the  Saviour  upon  the  cross, 
which  always  hangs  over  the  heads  of  the  French  judges. 
Neither  does  the  judge  demean  himself  so  attentively  and 
sympathetically.  I  did  not  look  for  much  sympathy  in  the  Old 
Bailey.  I  would  as  soon  have  looked  for  pearls  in  a  pudding- 
stone.  The  lawyers  sat  on  circular  benches,  in  whitish  curly 
wigs,  and  gowns.  I  had  no  idea  that  so  respectable  a  profes- 


LONDON,— IN  OTHER  PHASES.  359 

sion  could  be  dressed  up  so  as  to  look  so  assinine.  Of  course 
they  are  used  to  the  absurdity  ;  but  is  it  always  to  continue  ? 
Now  it  does  not  look  so  ridiculous  to  see  the  officer  of  the  court 
in  a  great  blue  cloak-dress,  fringed  with  furs,  and  the  crier  (I 
believe  it  was)  with  his  sword  dangling  about  a  pair  of  spindle- 
shanks,  dressed  in  tights,  while  his  head  was  queued  and  rib 
boned  in  gala  style  ;  for  these  officers  "  have  no  discretion  ;" 
they  are  executive — machines.  'Lawyers  are  supposed  to  be 
thinking  men,  not  fantastic  harlequins.  But  there  I  sat,  almost 
choking  because  I  could  not  laugh,  at  the  grave  and  gay  wigs 
(some  looked  in  the  face  to  be  not  more  than  twenty-one  years 
of  age)  which  surrounded  me.  A  gentleman  thief  was  on  trial 
for  stealing  a  box  of  silver.  He  was  standing  in  the  dock, 
counterfeiting  a  tremble,  and  using  a  handkerchief  to  brush 
away  imaginary  tears.  An  old  wig  (I  have  no  respect  for  men 
who  place  themselves  in  such  a  guise)  was  trying  his  best  to 
bamboozle  a  jury  that  seemed  utterly  indifferent  to  every  thing. 
If  you  remember  a  sketch  of  the  jury  that  tried  Bardell  vs. 
Pickwick,  by  Cruikshank,  you  will  have  an  idea  of  this  jury. 
Pretty  soon  the  old  wig,  after  having  disposed  of  each  tittle  of 
testimony,  calling  it  nothing,  multiplied  them  together,  and 
produced  nothing — against  his  client,  and  sat  down  to  his  infi 
nite  satisfaction. 

"  My  lord,"  the  judge,  summed  up  in  a  few  words :  the  jury 
leaned  over  the  bench,  and  without  going  out  (they  never  go  out 
in  the  Old  Bailey),  returned  a  verdict  of  guilty,  almost  as  soon 
as  I  can  write  this  sentence  ;  the  judge  immediately  sentenced 
the  prisoner  to  ten  year's  transportation.  The  prisoner  asked  if 
he  could  be  permitted  to  use  spectacles.  A  voice  (female)  from 
the  gallery,  "  My  lord,  he's  blind."  "  Silence  !  "  growls  an  offi 
cer.  That  was  all  the  attention  shown  to  the  request.  Previous 
to  sentence,  two  policemen  swear  to  the  prisoner  as  one  of  the 
"swell-mob"  (genteelly  dressed  thieves),  which  did  not  mitigate 
the  sentence.  And  so  they  go  on.  I  suppose  an  ordinary  case 
is  tried  in  ten  minutes,  on  which  a  man's  whole  life  and  reputa- 


370  LONDON,— IN  OTHER  PHASES. 

tion  is  staked.  The  court  has  no  more  soul  than  a  threshing  ma 
chine,  and  the  bar  no  more  sympathy  than  is  in  their  wigs. 

What  a  relief — a  contrast,  to  turn  from  this  harsh  home  of 
justice,  to  the  silent  homes  of  the  great,  who  are  buried  in  the 
Poet's  Corner  of  Westminster.  With  what  fear  and  awe  are 
we  inspired,  as  we  pass  over  the  graves  where  Campbell  and 
Sheridan  sleep,  to  see  the  monument  of  Shakspeare — so  gentle, 
so  meek,  so  graceful,  as  he  stands  upon  it,  with  a  scroll  of  his 
own  verses  about  the  cloud-capped  towers  and  gorgeous  palaces 
of  human  greatness,  that  fade,  how  unlike  his  own  name,  and 
leave  not  a  rack  behind  ! 

All  about  him  are  names  familiar  to  us  as  those  of  our  own 
family,  Howe,  Addison,  Goldsmith,  ("  poor  Goldy  !  ")  Southey, 
Dryden,  "  rare  Ben,"  and  rarer  Samuel  Johnson  ;  but  why  name 
them  ?  Is  not  this  the  repository  of  England's  most  precious 
dust  ?  What  a  spirit  speaks  from  the  urns  of  these  princes  and 
kings  of  song  !  How  silently,  through  the  mighty  medium  of 
type,  does  it  bear  on  its  pinion  the  elements  of  beauty,  humor, 
truth  and  goodness,  to  make  the  world  purer  and  holier  !  How 
kindly  does  it  bear  down  to  future  ages  and  to  the  extremest 
parts  of  the  earth,  the  riches  of  our  noble  Anglo-Saxon  language  ! 
And  even  now,  in  the  polished  poetry  of  Longfellow,  and  the 
graceful  prose  of  Irving,  is  verified,  but  not  to  its  splendid  ful 
filment,  the  prophetic  rapture  of  an  old  English  bard,  Daniels, 
as  he  speaks  of  that  language  which  these  mouldering  forms 
spoke  and  wrote : 

"  And  who  in  time  knows  whither  he  may  vent 
The  treasures  of  our  tongue  ?     To  what  strange  shores 
This  gain  of  our  best  glory  shall  be  sent 
T'  enrich  unknowing  nations  with  our  stores  ? 
What  worlds  in  th'  yet  unformed  Occident 
May  come  refined  with  th'  accents  which  are  ours." 


XXXI. 

•  ' 

€{JB  tot  (gijiititimi  Jtemsibft. 

"  I  would  rather  believe  all  the  fables  of  the  Talmud,  the  Legend  and  the  Alcoran,  than 
that  this  universal  frame  is  without  MIND  !" 

Lord  Bacon. 

IT  is  utterly  impossible  for  me  even  to  essay  any  further  ex 
pression  about  the  Exhibition,  which  will  in  the  least  degree 
reflect  its  great  and  little  wonders.  As  I  entered  it  again,  the 
same  bright  and  glittering  array  and  the  same  multiform  variety 
marched  before  me  in  sections,  regiments  and  battalions,  com 
pletely  capturing  my  senses  and  depriving  my  pen  of  its  ordinary 
volubility.  I  entered  with  the  intention  of  studying  closely 
certain  branches,  say  that  of  agricultural  implements  (having  an 
intelligent  farmer  friend,  Mr.  Buckingham,  along),  but  the  short 
ness  of  my  stay  here  and  the  immensity  of  the  objects  to  be 
studied,  admonished  me  not  to  undertake  so  hopeless  a  work. 
Upon  each  entrance  to  the  different  departments,  I  have  found 
some  new  modification  of  a  familiar  thing,  some  new  principle  of 
mechanics,  and  some  additional  beauty  in  Art.  The  most  use 
ful  things  that  I  have  seen  have  been  the  most  beautifully 
finished  ;  and  in  this,  is  confirmed  a  very  pleasant  truth.  Even 
the  locomotive  which  is  marked  with  a  ribbon  around  its  pipe, 
and  a  card  of  the  prize  medal,  is  a  piece  of  exquisite  beauty, 
dazzling  as  a  mirror  in  its  steel  and  brass,  and  carved  into  grace 
at  every  point  where  ornament  may  give  grace  without  detract 
ing  from  strength.  Is  it  not  ever  thus  in  the  mental  world  ? 
Are  the  sterling  and  strong  metals  of  thought,  any  worse  for 
being  wrought  into  rich  and  elegant  figures  ?  Ask  Milton,  or 


372  TEE  GREAT  EXHIBITION  REVISITED. 

Dante,  or  Bacon,  or  Shakspeare  ?  The  rich  colorings  of  the 
papier  mache,  or  the  exquisitely  wrought  mosaics  of  the  circular 
tables,  lose  none  of  their  elegant  proportions,  because  they  are 
colored.  But  the  most  refined  beauty  is  not  that  of  form  or 
color.  It  lies  in  the  object  of  the  thing  judged,  and  the  adapta 
tion  to  attain  thaj  object.  The  closer  and  more  facile  that 
relation,  the  more  beautiful  will  be  the  instrument.  A  churn, 
simple  and  unostentatious,  worked  by  a  little  hand-wheel,  but 
partaking  of  three  motions,  rotary,  horizontal  and  perpendicular, 
combining  at  once  several  forces,  including  atmospheric  pressure, 
and  making  butter  in  five  minutes  with  ease,  was  an  object  of 
intrinsic  beauty,  to  be  looked  at  with  as  much  pleasure  as  any 
of  those  splendid  silver-wrought  ornaments. 

A  steam  plough  may  be  mentioned  in  the  same  category. 
Behind  the  locomotive  are  the  rotary  ploughs.  The  resistance 
of  the  earth  they  meet  with,  propels  the  machine,  as  the  steam 
boat  is  propelled  by  the  resistance  of  the  water  to  the  wheel. 
Of  course,  such  an  instrument  would  be  entirely  useless  in  the 
greatest  part  of  Ohio,  where  stumps  and  roots  are  yet  plenty,  and 
where  the  land  is  not  so  light  and  level,  as  it  is  in  the  greater 
part  of  England. 

I  went  through  the  agricultural  implement  department, 
examined  what  I  could,  and  always  left, — wondering  at  the 
simplicity  and  the  immense  labor-saving  property  of  the  instru 
ment  studied. 

But  there  is  nothing  superior  to  McCormick's  reaping 
machine.  I  had  seen  it  tried  before  in  Muskingum  ;  knew  its 
peculiarities,  and  was  not  astonished  that  the  discerning  com 
missioners  awarded  McCormick  the  great  prize  medal.  He 
bears  his  honor  meekly ;  says  that  it  will  sell  much  better  here 
than  in  America;  because,  1st,  it  will  save  more  labor  here, 
since  five  men  sickle  in  one  day  what  one  man  in  America  would 
cradle  in  the  same  time ;  and  2d,  because  the  ground  is  more 
even,  and  better  fitted  for  its  operation.  The  wages  here  are 
less  by  about  a  half ;  so  that  that  will  make  a  difference.  The 


THE  GEE  AT  EXHIBITION  REVISITED.  373 

reaper  has  had  a  good  trial  and  a  successful  one.  Never  was 
the  God-given  genius  of  invention  better  used,  than  in  furnish 
ing  for  man  such,  beautiful  appliances  for  the  farm.  It  helps  to 
wipe  away  the  elder  curse.  It  dries  the  sweating  brow  of  the 
harvest-man,  in  the  moment  of  golden  fruition,  when  haste, 
anxiety,  care,  and  more  than  ordinary  labor  are  called  into 
requisition  to  save  his  grain.  If  America  has  not  been  repre 
sented  in  the  exhibition  by  the  flaunting  silks,  embroideries, 
paintings,  glass  and  marbles  which  other  nations  so  vauntingly 
display,  she  has  much  to  show  of  the  solid,  substantial,  and  use 
ful.  Her  objects  will  bear  study  and  scrutiny.  It  cannot  be 
expected  of  her,  that  she  should  send  over  cloths  of  gold,  like 
India  and  Tunis,  nor  coronets  of  diamonds,  like  Russia.  She 
is  young  in  the  finer  arts. 

"  A  Satyr  that  comes  staring  from  the  woods, 
Cannot  at  first  speak  like  an  orator." 

But  it  can  speak  some  rough,  shaggy,  natural  truths,  whose 
virtue  lies  not  in  the  husk  but  in  the  kernel,  and  which,  when 
examined,  will  show  that  activity  of  mind  toward  beneficent 
ends,  which  is  the  highest  reach  of  all  arts. 

America  has  had  her  own  absolutely  necessary  work  to  do 
since  she  whipped  her  mother.  She  has  been  at  home  doing  it, 
like  a  good  housewife.  She  has  not  been  gadding  about,  peeping 
into  this  keyhole,  and  stealing  into  that  corner,  in  order  to 
enrich  her  industrial  designs.  She  has  been 

"  struggling  with  the  oak 


In  search  of  bread  and  home,  has  learned  to  rive 

Its  stubborn  boughs,  till  limbs,  once  lightly  strung,     • 

Might  mate  in  cordage  with  its  infant  stems." 

And,  as  in  the  young  Hercules  the  astrologers  read  the  lines 
of  after-strength,  so  in  the  lineaments  of  America  may  now  be 
read  those  of  Empire.     God  has  written  them,  in  great  moun- 
14* 


374  THE  GREAT  EXHIBITION  REVISITED. 

tains,  rivers,  lakes,  men  and  energies,  all  over  the  face  of  the 
Union. 

It  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  could  read  them,  in  epitome,  in  the 
bust  of  Webster,  which  since  I  was  last  here  has  been  added, 
with  good  taste,  to  the  American  department.  Spirit  of  Phi 
dias  !  would  you  not  take  it  for  a  loftier  god  than  your  own 
Jove  1  How  massive  the  brow,  how  full  of  .will  are  the  lines 
around  the  mouth — how  commanding,  all !  An  American,  not 
a  partisan,  is  Webster  abroad.  There  was  some  sting,  but  great 
truth,  in  the  remark,  that  Webster  was  the  greatest  animal  and 
the  greatest  man  in  America.  His  brain,  even  in  its  contour  of 
marble,  tell  both. 

By  his  side  is  a  lifelike  model  of  Oliver  Twist,  from  Ame 
rica.  It  is  much  looked  at.  I  stood  by,  watching  alternately 
the  little  wo-begone  victim  of  a  peculiar  state  or  crust  of  English 
society,  in  his  tatters  and  troubles,  and  the  sympathetic  old 
women  who  came  up  to  see  and  remark  upon  little  Oliver. 
"  What  a  pity,  to  be  sure  !  I  suppose  he  has  a  history,  poor 
boy  !"  He  has,  old  lady,  and  perhaps  part  of  it  has  been  under 
your  own  nose.  "  I  wonder  if  he  is  not  some  rich  man's  son, 
strayed  off  or  stolen  by  the  gipsies  ?"  and  with  such-like  commen 
taries  upon  the  image  of  him  whose  history  is  far  more  familiar 
in  America  than  in  England,  they  pass  unreflectingly  By. 

I  examined  with  great  care  the  Chinese  rooms.  They  re 
ward  the  care.  Specimens  of  rare  jars  and  paintings,  together 
with  most  elaborate  ivory  carvings,  do  the  Chinese  justice,  I 
trust.  They  are  a  large  nation,  and  should  be  well  represented. 
Besides,  they  have  begun  to  fight  and  bestir  themselves  lately; 
and, who  knows  but  that  the  Celestial  feet  may,  under  destiny, 
be  leading  silently  towards  the  temple  of  the  Union,  for  that 
annexation  which  their  friends  across  the  Pacific  enjoy  ?  Some 
of  their  maxims,  which  are  blazoned  boldly  in  their  rooms, 
bespoke  for  them  a  worldly  wisdom  worthy  of  annexation  and 
Poor  Richard.  For  instance  : 

"  1.   Let  every  man  sweep  the  snow  from  before  his  own 


THE  GREAT  EXHIBITION  REVISITED.  375 

door,  and  not  busy  himself  about  the  frost  on  his  neighbor's 
tiles."  Confucius  !  how  that  hits  some  men  ! 

"  2.  The  ripest  fruit  will  not  fall  into  your  mouth."  Frank 
lin  !  how  that  meets  your  approval ! 

"  3.  Dig  a  well  before  you  are  thirsty."  The  Spartan's  bre 
vity,  and  Solomon's  wisdom  ! 

"  4.  Water  does  not  remain  on  mountains,  nor  vengeance  in 
a  great  mind."  A  lofty  thought  gushing  down  a  mountain 
mind  ! 

In  going  through  the  Exhibition,  there  attaches  to  many 
departments  an  added  interest,  because  we  have  seen  the  natives 
at  home  in  their  workshops,  attaining  the  results  here  so  mag 
nificently  alluring.  At  Brussels,  for  instance,  we  saw  the  Flem 
ish  girls  making  their  fingers  fly,  as  they  leaned  over  the  pillow 
upon  their  laps,  with  the  pattern  pricked  into  black  paper,  tacked 
to  the  pillow,  and  the  paper  full  of  pins,  around  and  across  which 
they  were  passing,  with  rapid  skill,  the  numerous  little  linen 
spools  of  thread,  to  form  the  elegant  figures  and  delicate  tracery 
of  the  richest  laces.  At  Gobelins  we  saw  the  tapestries  slowly 
evolving  from  the  massive  loom.  At  Rome,  we  saw  the  mosaics 
grow  into  beauty  and  life  under  the  patient  hand  of  the  artist. 
At  Genoa,  we  beheld  the  filigree-goldsmiths  educing  forms  of 
light  grace  out  of  the  silver.  At  every  turn  we  see  objects  that 
we  have  seen  in  bazaars  for  sale,  and  forms  and  figures  whose 
prime  originals  dwell  in  everlasting  freshness  upon  the  marbles 
of  the  Acropolis  or  the  walls  of  Pompeii. 

But  in  seeing  all  here  in  one  vast  repertory,  we  possess  the 
pleasure  of  comparison,  which  is  the  greatest  provocative  to 
remembrance,  and  the  greatest  hindrance  to  intolerance ;  for 
where  there  is  so  much  to  be  seen  and  studied,  spurs  to  memory 
are  needed,  and  intolerance  has  been  as  virulent,  at  times,  in 
art  and  science,  as  in  politics  and  religion.  The  great  object  of 
this  exhibition  has  been  to  break  down  the  contracted  barriers 
of  intolerance  and  nationality,  so  that  industry  may  fraternize 
and  the  people  be  elevated.  England  will  receive  an  immense 


376  THE  GREAT  EXHIBITION  REVISITED. 

pecuniary  benefit  from  the  Exhibition,  no  doubt ;  but  this  was 
not  the  primary  intention.  *  Her  artists  and  artisans  will  glean 
much  from  these  displays  wherewith  to  enrich  her  future.  This 
was  one  of  the  professed  objects  of  the  Palace,  but  not  its  high 
est.  The  highest  object  was  the  cultivation  of  international 
good-will.  The  people  of  Europe  cannot  lose  by  this.  The 
despots  may.  Foreign  wars  have  been  often  used  by  tyrants  to 
inflame  national  prejudices,  so  as  to  repress  the  better  feelings 
of  independence  and  liberty.  The  foreigners  who  visit  England 
must  go  home  with  new  ideas  of  their  own  about  civic  wants 
and  oppressions.  And  although  there  is  nothing  in  war  I  do 
not  detest,  yet  when  begun  by  a  people  against  old,  irresponsible, 
hereditary  powers,  the  heart  would  desire  its  bloody  continuance 
until  every  symbol,  form,  and  official  instrument  of  power  were 
exterminated,  root  and  branch.  I  pray  God  that  such  a  war 
may  come.  It  is  the  only  way — steel  and  powder — the  only 
way  of  unloosing  the  gripe  of  the  Austrian  and  Russian,  and  I 
may  add  of  the  French,  upon  the  liberties  of  Europe.  Peace- 
societies  may  preach  and  sing  psalms  till  doomsday ;  but  the 
arch-scoundrel  of  Naples  and  the  petty  princes  of  Germany  will 
laugh  and  hold  on.  International  wars  may  Heaven  avert,  and 
turn  the  bayonet  and  cannon  against  the  palaces,  castles,  and 
forts,  built  by  robbing  tyrants  to  intimidate,  so  as  better  to 
prey  upon,  their  own  people. 

They  talk  of  turning  the  Crystal  Palace  into  a  Winter  Gar 
den.  The  plan  is  disapproved  of  by  many,  but  approved  of  by 
more.  Its  image  has  become  so  familiar  that  it  can  be  illy 
spared.  It  has  been  infinitely  reproduced.  Boys  cry  it  in  the 
streets:  "'Ere's  the  Crystal  Palace  on  a  medal,  or  on  a  breast-pin, 
or  on  a  card,  Aonly  a  penny— 'ave  one,  sir?"  All  the  print-shops 
show  it,  in  every  size  and  color  and  mode  of  art.  It  has  had  a 
long  season,  and  meanwhile  it  has  taught  many  a  severe,  many 
a  delightful  lesson.  This  one  truth  it  teaches  above  all  others, 
that  the  effluence  of  Deity — the  subtle  mind  of  man — has  powers 
of  insight  and  apprehension  that  can  never  cease  to  mould  its 


THE  GREAT  EXHIBITION  REVISITED.  377 

images  and  produce  its  results.  Immortality  must  be  the  goal 
of  such  creative  power,  and  shall  not  that  immortality  find  repose 
at  last  in  His  presence,  who  delighted  in  the  works  of  His  own 
hands,  when  he  saw  that  they  were  good,  and  whose  Palace,  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting  more  crystalline  than  light,  is  eternal 
in  the  heavens ! 


XXXIi. 

rrars  mift 


"  There  is  an  old  tale  goes,  that  Herne,  the  Hunter, 
Sometime  a  keeper  here  in  Windsor  forest, 
Doth  all  the  winter  time,  in  still  midnight 
"Walk  round  about  an  oak,  with  great  ragged  horns." 

Shdkspeare. 

I  MUCH  prefer  the  railroad  route  up  the  valley  of  the  Thames, 
past  Richmond  to  Windsor,  to  any  other  ride  in  the  environs 
of  London.  A  whole  day  must  be  given  to  it  at  the  least.  Cars 
leave  Waterloo  bridge  station  almost  hourly,  and  before  you 
are  aware  of  it,  you  are  ushered,  by  the  unpoetical  steam-car, 
through  Windsor  Forest,  where  Herne  the  Hunter  took  his 
round,  and  where  the  fairies  danced  in  the  jocund  moonlight  to 
plague  Falstaff  for  his  sins. 

The  railroad  station  is  under  the  shadow  of  the  Castle  ;  which 
is  a  congregation  of  towers  and  buildings  of  stone  somewhat  an 
cient  —  some  of  them  even  dating  back  to  Caesar,  but  fitted  up 
with  every  comfort  for  the  residence  of  the  Queen,  who  delights, 
it  is  said,  to  retire  here. 

We  easily  obtained  admission  to  the  halls  and  reception 
rooms  of  the  Castle.  The  portraits  of  the  Stuarts,  especially  of 
the  unfortunate  Charles  I.,  and  his  family,  by  Vandyke,  are 
fine  artistic  pieces,  more  admirable  than  their  power-besotted 
originals.  The  line  of  heavy  Dutchmen  (always  excepting  the 
bright  and  manly  form  of  William  III.),  who  followed  the 
Stuarts,  hung  upon  the  walls  of  the  splendid  dining  halls.  Ele 
gance,  taste,  and  richness,  beyond  comparison  with  any  thing  ex 
cept  Versailles,  are  displayed  throughout  the  apartments.  The 


WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPORTS.  379 

object  of  all,  the  Queen  herself,  had  just  left  Windsor  for  the 
Isle  of  Wight,  where  the  yatching  season  is  opening. 

We  rode  up  in  the  cars,  with  the  India-rubber  man  to  the 
Queen.  He  was  visiting  the  riding-school  to  line  the  riding-rings 
with  India-rubber.  "  Why  ?"  do  you  ask  ?  As  an  Englishman 
would  say — "  Don't  you  zee, — Hif  an  'orse  kicks  and  makes  a 
sound,  he.  kicks  again.  Hif  he  kicks  hindia-rubber,  don't  you 
zee,  he  makes  no  sound.  He  don't  kick  again.  The  'orses  are 
spirited  and  high  kept.  They  never  kick  twice  at  hindia-rubber. 
Don't  you  zee,  zur  ?"  The  transcendentalism  of  the  above,  I 
would  love  to  enlarge  upon.  The  Queen  and  her  childrefl  prac 
tise  daily  in  the  riding-rings  at  Windsor,  and  extend  their  drives 
through  the  adjacent  parks. 

From  the  towers  or  from  the  terrace  there  is  one  of  the 
grandest  views  in  England.  Twelve  counties  can  be  seen.  Eton, 
in  neat  Gothic,  and  white  compared  to  the  buildings  of  the  me- 
troplis,  the  nursery  of  the  greatest  and  best  of  England,  lies  im 
mediately  below.  Slough,  where  Gray  is  buried,  and  the  church 
yard  in  which  he  composed  his  elegy,  are  plainly  discernible. 
There  is  intervening  and  every  where  filling  up  the  view,  the 
greenest,  goodliest  English  landscapes  we  have  yet  admired. 
The  Royal  relatives,  including  the  Queen's  mother,  whose  wealth 
has  been  unsparingly  bestowed  to  decorate  these  vales  and  hills, 
reside  in  the  precincts  of  Windsor. 

But  what  immense  area  is  that,  stretching  over  6,000 
acres,  measuring  a  circuit  of  48  miles,  interspersed  with  the  lime, 
chestnut,  beech,  holly,  fir,  and  oak  ? — None  other  than  the  Wind 
sor  Forest,  upon  whose  domain  we  intrenched  when  we  entered 
the  tower  below.  Look  down  the  green  lane,  miles  long,  known 
as  Queen  Anne's  walk,  and  terminated  by  a  colossal  statue  of 
George  III., — with  its  triple  roads,  and  you  will  see  a  part  of 
our  magnificent  drive  to  the  Virginia  Waters.  These  waters 
lie  on  the  other  side  of  the  forest ;  consequently  we  shall  have  a 
ride  through  the  fairy-haunted  greenwood. 

But  before  we  go,  let  us  give  a  few  thoughts  to  that  dim  elder 


380  WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPORTS. 

day,  which  arose  with  Chaucer,  and  beamed  upon  these  leafy 
walks  and  gray  battlements.  It  was  here  that  our  Helicon's 
first  stream  gushed  in  its  own  native  and  rugged  simplicity. 
Irving  visited  here  in  the  genial  month  of  May,  when  the  birds 
twittered  musically  in  the  groves,  and  wrote  his  sketch  of  the 
Royal  poet— James  I.  of  Scotland— who  was  imprisoned  for 
many  years  of  his  youth,  by  Henry  IV.  in  the  castle.  While 
a  prisoner,  he  fell  in  love  with  one  of  the  maidens  of  the  court, 
and  poured  forth  his  plaint  like  a  caged  nightingale.  But 
his  song  is  but  a  tiny  voice  in  that  grand  choral  harmony  of 
Englisk  bards,  whose  leader,  Chaucer,  trod  these  very  paths,  and 
attuned  his  lyre  under  these  gnarled  oaks.  Well  has  Campbell 
sung  of  Windsor  and  Chaucer  : — 

"  Should  thy  bowers  in  ivied  ruin  rot, 
There's  one,  thine  inmate  once,  whose  strain  renowned 
Would  interdict  thy  name  to  be  forgot. 

He  led  the  way 

To  welcome  the  long  after-coming  beam 

Of  Spenser's  light  and  Shakspeare'a  perfect  day!" 

To  read  the  quaint  old  bard,  somewhat  grimly  smiling,  as  it 
were,  through  a  rusty  visor, — to  catch  the  genuine  humor  and 

natural  poetry  of  his  soul,  as  he  tells  his  tales  of  Canterbury, to 

do  this,  without  visiting  Windsor,  is  a  rare  joy ;  but  to  re-read 
Chaucer,  after  having  seen  his  haunts. — well,  wait  till  the  bright 
fire  snaps  in  the  winter  evening,  when  we  have  our  gown  and  slip 
pers  on,  with  the  wind  whistling  bleakly ;  methinks,  then,  these 
scenes  of  to-day  will  help  to  open  the  chambers  of  fancy,  light 
the  flame  of  imagination,  and  bid  the  Old  Muse  sing  with  heart 
iest  song. 

These  grounds  of  Windsor  were  the  favorite  residences  of 
the  Georges — kings  of  England.  How  much  time,  care  and 
money  has  been  bestowed  by  them  in  introducing  Virginia  Water 
into  the  park !  It  was  formed  when  the  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
the  hero  of  Culloden,  resided  in  the  large  red  maze  of  building, 


WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPORTS.  381 

wherein  the  hounds  of  Prince  Albert  were  baying  deep-mouthed 
when  we  passed  :  and  it  is  the  largest  artificial  piece  of  water  in 
the  realm.  The  streams  of  the  neighborhood  are  collected  into 
a  basin,  which  is  adorned  and  margined  in  its  winding  pictu' 
resqueness  with  leafy  copses,  and  a  velvet  sward.  Our  grassplots 
•do  not  give  one  the  idea  at  all  of  that  velvety,  spongy  smooth 
ness  which  I  mean,  when  I  speak  of  the  English  lawn.  A  dark 
glen  or  ravine  receives  the  water — after  it  falls  in  a  cascade 
of  some  twenty  feet.  Around  are  by-paths,  inviting  the  foot  to 
wander  at  pleasure,  through  every  variety  of  shade.  The  trees 
are  none  of  them  so  high  as  our  best  forest  trees,  but  they  have 
the  tough  old  venerableness  that  Chaucer  loved,  and  the  neat 
trim  of  architectural  beauty.  Where  clusters  of  them  occur? 
they  are  arranged  so  as  to  form  one  top,  with  happy  effect.  Deer 
in  great  herds  crop  the  grass  or  sleep  under  the  shade.  But 
their  timidity  has  been  long  lost.  The  approach  of  the  stranger 
excites  no  attention — no  quivering  nostril,  wild  glance  or  swift 
bound  into  the  covert.  Six  thousand  deer  people  the  park,  to 
say  nothing  of  other  game — plenty  as  blackberries,  kept  for 
Prince  Albert's  peculiar  pastime. 

It  was  one  of  the  finest  walks  conceivable  to  leave  the  car 
riage  and  stray  along  Virginia  Water.  A  man-of-war, -flaunt 
ing  the  flags  of  all  nations,  lay  upon  its  tranquil  bosom — a 
present  to  the  late  Queen  Adelaide.  Lovers  were  sauntering 
most  lovingly,  and  as  Yellowplush  would  say,  '  Oh  !  'ow  'appily,' 
along  the  sward.  Swans  were  swimming  along  the  verdant  mar 
gin.  A  little  distance  from  the  bank  we  found  the  Grecian 
temple  in  ruins  ;  an  excellent  imitation  of  the  temple  of  Jupiter 
at  Athens.  Shelley  loved  to  meditate  amidst  these  witching  spots, 
and  perhaps  here  drank  in  the  spirit  of  that  Beauty  which  in 
formed  his  Muse.  He  resided  in  the  little  village  of  Bishops- 
gate  near  by,  itself  surrounded  by  every  allurement  of  rural 
loveliness. 

The  royal  Conservatory  is  in  the  midst  of  the  forest,  still 
kept  in  royal  style,  affording  a  resting-place  for  the  Queen  when 


382  WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPORTS. 

she  airs  in  these  woods.  Prince  Albert  has  a  farm  of  500  acres 
in  the  midst.  It  looked  as  neat  as  a  model.  The  hay  was  put 
up  as  smoothly  as  if  it  were  to  remain  for  ever.  The  stock  con 
sisted  of  a  large  variety.  I  should  venture  out  of  my  sphere  if 
I  undertook  to  tell  about  farms  and  their  appendages.  Silence 
is  discretion.  There  is  a  horticultural  phenomenon  in  the  for* 
est  at  the  Belvidere  worth  naming.  It  consists  of  one  grape 
vine,  off  of  which  was  gathered  last  year  over  twenty-three  hun 
dred  pounds  of  grapes..  But  under  cover.  Oh!  bless  you — if 
Apollo  had  not  had  a  glass  medium  he  could  not  have  hit, 
with  his  quiver  of  beams,  old  Bacchus  so  plump  in  the  eye, — 
not  in  England  at  any  rate. 

One  may  ride  101  miles  in  this  park  over  the  most  beautiful 
road,  and  surrounded  by  the  most  grateful  prospect.  Yet  of  the 
6000  acres  here,  only  500  answers  God's  law.  Five  thousand 
five  hundred  acres  will  have  a  poor  account  to  render  in  their 
day  of  judgment.  It  will  not  do  then  to  say,  "  Poetry  and 
beauty  required  of  us  our  service  and  our  shades.  Royalty 
wished  to  press  our  smooth  velvet  sward,  excluded  from  the 
vulgar  gaze.  Aristocrats  delighted  to  drive  down  our  green 
lanes  in  fine  coaches  with  arms  on  them,  to  indulge  flimsy  rap 
tures  upon  the  scenes  they  could  not  comprehend  in  their  deeper 
significance.  Fairies  had  their  favorite  resorts  upon 

"  The  bank  whereon  the  wild  thyme  blows, 

Where  cowslips  and  the  nodding  violet  grows, 
Quite  over-canopied  with  luscious  woodbine, 
With  sweet  musk  roses,  and  with  eglantine, 
Where  slept  Titania." 

Inquisition  will  be  made  for  the  English  poor,  and  the  inquiry 
will  be,  Why  were  these,  His  own  image,  famished,  while  a  few 
— in  His  eye — no  better,  are  suffered  to  lord  it  over  such  an 
immense  area  of  bread-growing  soil,  in  search  of  an  antidote  to 
ennui?  I  believe  with  Emerson,  in  the  idea  of  compensation, 
and  would  carry  it  somewhat  into  the  after-life. 


WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPORTS.  383 

The  Merry  "Wives  of  Windsor,  as  Shakspeare  draws  their 
characters,  were  never  great  favorites  of  mine.  I  should  not 
put  them  down  as  patterns  of  domestic  sobriety,  nor  of  delicate 
refinement.  They  would  have  been  unfaithful  to  the  idea  of  the 
comedy,  had  they  been  so.  They  would,  according  to  my  ob 
servation,  have  belied  their  locality,  had  they  been  otherwise. 
The  day  we  visited  Windsor  happened  (how  fortunate  !)  to  be 
the  anniversary  revel  of  the  Bachelors  of  Windsor.  Of  course, 
I  had  a  fine  chance  to  see  the  merry  wives.  Indeed,  I  did  not 
see  a  soul  that  was  not  a  little  cracked  with  the  glee  of  the  day, 
except  those  who  had  been  stupefied  with  too  much  "  sack." 

I  looked  into,  it  may  have  been,  the  Garter  Inn,  to  see  where 
Sir  Jack  drank  sack,  and  Dame  Quickly  gossiped ;  but  I  only 
saw  a  crowd  of  revellers  dancing  to  a  fiddle  ;  the  young  fellows 
with  long  clay  pipes  in  their  mouths,  shuffling  the  sandy  floor, 
with  red-cheeked,  flaxen-haired  country  damsels. 

The  revel  was  established  many  years  ago,  by  a  rich  lady, 
who  bequeathed  a  sum  of  money  and  the  ground,  in  the  very 
midst  of  the  town,  for  the  sports.  These  consist  of  the  old  Eng 
lish  games,  and  they  are  conducted  on  the  old  principles.  When 
we  went  on  the  ground,  some  such  scene  as  the  following  was 
presented.  About  twenty  thousand  people  were  standing  in  and 
around  the  side  hills,  overlooking  the  rings,  stage  and  booths. 
The  folk  in  our  vicinage  were  holding  mugs  of  ale  and  stout, 
with  a  noisy  hilarity  as  gross  as  that  of  the  ugliest  villein  in  the 
time  of  the  Conqueror.  Soldiers  and  policemen  were  numerously 
interspersed. 

Flaxen  heads  were  uncovered  in  dishevelled  riot.  The  "  mer 
ry  wives"  are  by  no  means  idle  or  unconcerned.  "They  were 
moving  among  the  crowd,  enjoying  the  rude  brutality  of  the 
hour.  The  stage  was  the  great  object  of  interest.  Two  flaxen 
heads  upon  it  were  woolling  each  other,  and  trying  to  trip.  A 
shout  announced  the  result  in  a  fall.  Another  shout  announced 
a  tumble  of  both  off  the  stage.  Again  they  are  at  it ;  the  tall 
one,  who  is  a  Northumberland  man  (says  our  driver,  who  knows 


384  WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPOUTS. 

the  peculiarities  of  skill),  gives  the  lesser  one  a  jerk,  which  flings 
his  coat  over  his  head,  and  while  blinded,  he  gives  him  the 
soundest  fall,  amid  shouts  of  merriment.  In  the  mean  while, 
wooden  horses,  circular  boats,  and  other  riding  establishments, 
in  the  shape  of  overshot  wheels,  are  gyrating.  Dancing,  and 
Punch  and  Judy,  with  other  entertainments,  enliven  the  booths. 
Chimney-sweeps  are  climbing  the  three  greased  poles  near  the 
stage,  in  vain — the  oily  lubricity  of  the  poles  is  too  much  for 
them ;  and  amid  derisive  cries,  they  slide  down.  At  last  one 
skilful  fellow  attained  the  top,  and  the  noise  became  deafening. 
Next  came  the  game  of  whipping  the  ball  out  of  the  hole.  A 
half  dozen  are  blindfolded.  They  have  long  whips  with  sharp 
crackers.  When  the  ball  came  out,  the  signal  was  given  by  an 
officer,  when  the  blindfolded  began  most  severely  to  whip  each 
other.  Ha  !  ha !  HAW  !  in  hearty  great  guftaws,  rung  from  side 
to  side.  The  damsels,  all  crimson,  left  their  partners  in  the 
rustic  dance,  and  rushed  out  to  see.  The  mugs  were  dropped 
— the  stupid,  beer-besotted  fellows  in  white  overshirts,  open 
their  eyes.  "  Gad !  Tommy  1  'ow  the  little  one  catches  it ! 
Don't  they  lay  it  on  right  soundly,  man?  Hoorah !"  This 
brutal  game  of  the  ball  is  repeated.  It  seemed  to  be  one  of  the 
most  approved  sports.  We  had  been  too  late  to  see  the  cricket, 
and  other  matches.  But  we  saw  enough  to  know  that  it  was 
rightly  named  the  Windsor  revel. 

The  corporation  of  Windsor,  to  their  honor,  have  tried  every 
means  in  their  power,  which  included  a  strong  litigation,  to  get 
rid  of  this  revel.  They  have  tried  to  build  roads  over  the  place. 
They  are  gradually  encroaching  on  the  spot.  But  the  Bachelors, 
who  belong  to  a  most  ancient  order,  take  great  pride  in  these 
sports,  and  have  resisted  successfully  every  encroachment  upon 
their  prescriptive  rights.  Besides,  the  Queen  gives  ten  pounds 
for  it,  and  her  mother  a  considerable  sum. 

In  passing  out  of  Windsor,  we  drove  by  a  magnificent  equi 
page,  with  liveried  servants,  within  which  was  seated  a  maiden 
lady  named  Miss  Harvey  Bonnell,  the  owner  of  a  large  estate 


WINDSOR  SCENES  AND  SPOUTS.  385 

in  the  vicinage,  with  an  annual  income  of  $150,000.  She  was 
dressed  in  the  style  of  Queen  Anne,  consisting  of  a  great  white 
ruff,  and  a  black  hat  with  black  ostrich  plumes,  which  waved 
finely  as  she  bowed  to  us  from  her  carriage.  The  lady  from 
whom  she  inherited  the  immense  estate  wore  the  same  costume, 
and  her  devisors  had  the  same  habit.  We  would  commend  the 
style  to  the  attention  of  our  countrywomen,  as  we  understand 
that  novel  modes  of  dress  are  in  quest  among  them.  The  repu 
tation  of  Miss  Bonnell  is  that  of  a  sane,  charitable,  noble  lady. 
She  is  a  peculiarity  worth  notice.  Her  residence  is  beauti 
fully  situated  amidst  her  elegant  grounds,  and  is  a  peer  even 
among  the  royal  abodes. 

But  we  must  hasten  to  London ;  congratulating  ourselves  on 
having  seen  so  much  of  the  present  and  the  past,  and  on  our  way 
drawing  conclusions  not  at  all  unfavorable  to  the  decency,  good 
sense  and  humanity  of  the  American  yeomanry,  compared  to  the 
"  revellers"  of  Windsor. 


XXXIII 


"  What  needs  my  Shakspeare  for  his  honor'd  boiies  ? 
The  labor  of  an  age  in  piled  stones ; 
Or  that  his  hallowed  relics  should  be  hid 
Under  a  starry-pointing  pyramid  ? 

Thou  our  fancy,  of  itself  bereaving, 

Dost  make  us  marlle  with  too  much  conceiving ; 
And  so  sepulchred,  in  such  pomp  dost  lie, 
That  kings  for  sue]-*  a  tomb  would  wish  to  die 


Milton's  Sonnet. 


sai 


MORE  than  a  week  had  we  been  at  London,  studying  it  from 
the  little  boats  which  fret  the  Thames ;  from  the  top  of 
the  omnibuses  that  meander  through  its  winding  streets  ;  from 
St.  Paul's  cupola ;  from  amid  its  gardens  and  parks,  its  palaces 
and  courts  of  justice  ;  endeavoring  to  see  every  phase  of  that 
stirring  life  called  London,  and  of  that  strangely  industrious 
and  perseveringly  active  race  from  which  we  derive  our  habits, 
our  laws,  and  ourselves.  Of  all  the  people  I  have  yet  seen,  if  I 
had  to  have  an  ancestry  (which  is  exceedingly  uncomfortable 
sometimes  to  some  people,  especially  if  it  happens  to  run  back 
into  a  shoemaker  or  a  tailor),  I  would  prefer  our  own  Anglo- 
Saxon  stock.  It  is  a  shaggy  old  oak,  rough,  intertwisted  and 
I  stubborn  ;  but  it  spreads  a  large  and  gracious  umbrage,  and  is 
'destined  to  spread  still,  a  larger  and  a  better  shade.  The 
French  are  too  much  like  their  own  tall,  military-looking,  top- 
plumed  poplars,  constantly  bending  to  the  lightest  breeze  of 
fickleness,  and  only  affording  slim  lumber  with  the  best  of 


sawing. 

One  thing  noticeable  among  the  English  is,  that  they  cart 


HOME.  387 

more  for  their  physical  frames  than  their  descendants  in 
America.  We  are  worn-out,  when  they  are  fully  matured. 
Climate  has  much  to  do  with  this,  but  habit  more.  An  English 
man  hardly  ever  dies.  I  went  down  into  Hampshire  to  look 
after  the  estate  of  an  old  gentleman,  whose  friends  in  America 
thought  that  he  ought  to  have  been  dead  long  ago.  On  making 
inquiry,  everybody  knew  him,  be  had  lived  so  long,  and  asked 
me,  in  return,  if  he  was  not  the  "  great  cricketer."  That  is  the 
secret.  Manly  exercise  and  constant  care  had  rendered  his  old 
age  as  vigorous  as  a  man  in  our  country  would  hardly  be  at 
forty-five. 

We  bid  London  good-bye  yesterday  morning,  and  are  here 
in  Shakspeare's  home,  by  thy  willowy  marge — Oh !  Avon  ! 
Running  to  Coventry,  famous  for  some  of  FalstafPs  military 
operations,  if  I  remember  rightly,  we  left  the  main  trunk 
of  the  railway  and  glided  into  Kenilworth,  whose  castle 
Scott  has  saved  from  ruin  by  his  incomparable  novel ;  then  to 
Warwick,  where  the  old  earls  of  that  name,  the  "  King  Makers," 
in  the  earliest  eras  of  English  history,  resided,  and  where  an 
earl  of  the  same  title  now  lives.  We  stopped  to  see  its  exte 
rior  ;  and  taking  a  fly,  ran  over  a  fine  road  commanding  an  ex 
cellent  view  of  the  rolling  fields  of  Avon  vale.  The  harvesting 
was  almost  over.  Poor  women  were  gleaning  the  fields,  and 
farmers  and  their  men  were  getting  in  their  wheat.  The  Avon 
is  not  much  larger  than  one  of  our  creeks.  Its  banks  are  low 
and  shaded  with  willows,  which  mark  its  course  as  it  winds 
through  the  green  meadows,  until  it  passes  through  Stratford. 

Our  first  visit  was  to  the  house  where  Shakspeare  was  born ; 
a  rude,  half-cottage,  upon  one  of  the  principal  streets  of  the 
town,  easily  discernible  by  its  unique  and  aged  appearance.  It 
bears  an  antique  sign — "  THE  IMMORTAL  SHAKSPEARE  WAS 

BORN  IN  THIS  HOUSE." 

A  tidy  old  lady,  who  takes  care  of  it  for  the  Shakspearean 
Society,  to  whom  it  belongs,  welcomed  us ;  and  showed  us  the 
room  where  the  immortal  Bard  first  caught  the  light  and  breath 


388  AVON,— SHAKSPEARE*  S  HOME. 

of  life.  It  is  a  little  room  with  low  ceiling,  all  scribbled  over, 
black  with  names,  among  which  is  the  autograph  of  Schiller. 
The  name  of  Walter  Scott  is  also  shown,  cut  by  himself  upon 
the  glass  window. 

Not  a  descendant  of  the  Bard  remains.  It  was  enough  to 
have  had  such  offspring  as  Macbeth,  Lear  and  Othello.  His 
dust  reposes  in  a  church  of  the  town,  which  we  reached  under  a 
canopy  of  green  trees.  The  original  bust  in  stones  said  to  have 
been  taken  from  the  Bard  himself,  is  there.  There  is  no  ques 
tion  about  its  being  a  likeness,  not  a  fancy-piece.  It  was  origi 
nally  colored  and  painted,  so  as  to  resemble  Shakspeare ;  but 
Malone,  the  commentator,  had  it  painted  over  white,  for  which 
meddlesome  work  he  has  been  greatly  censured, — and  to  have 
punished  whom  Charles  Lamb  longed  to  have  been  a  contempo 
raneous  justice  of  the  peace  in  Warwickshire.  Underneath  an 
old  slab  lies  the  body,  which  has  never  been  removed ;  mankind 
kindly  heeding  the  spirit  of  the  inscription,  composed  by  the 
poet  himself; 

"  GOOD  FRIEND  FOE.  JESUS'  SAKE  FORBEAR 
To  DIG  THE  DUST  INCLOSED  HEARE, 
BLEST  BE  YE  MAN  YT  SPARES  THES  STONES 
AND  CURST  BE  HE  YT  MOVES  MY  BONES." 

His  family  reside  in  their  narrow  homes  near  him.  His  daughter 
Susannah,  has  this  quaint  inscription  upon  her  slab : 

"Witty  above  her  sexe,  but  that's  not  all 

Wise  to  Salvation  was  good  Mistris  Hall, 
Something  of  Shakspeare  was  in  that,  but  this 

Wholy  of  him  with  whom  she's  now  in  blisse. 
Then,  passenger  hu'st  ne'er  a  tear, 

To  weep  with  her  that  wept  with  all  ? 
That  wept,  yet  set  herself  to  cheer 

Them  up  with  comforts  cordiall, 

Her  love  shall  live,  her  mercy  spread, 

When  thou  ha'st  ne'er  a  teare  to  shed. 


A  VON—  SHAKSPEAR&S  HOME.  339 

Right  touching  and  gentle — is  it  not  ? 

But  we  must  leave  these  sacred  precincts,  to  wander  forth 
into  the  green  lanes  where  the  youthful  poet  wandered,  and 
where  he  developed  that  faculty  divine,  by  which  he  swept 
the  realm  of  song  with  an  all-potent  sceptre.  Through  pleasant 
ways  by  thatched  cottages,  along  hill-sides  and  down  vales,  we 
reached  the  spot  where  Shakspeare's  young  heart  thrilled  and 
trembled  many  a  time  and  oft ;  for  near  that  cottage  by  the  road 
side,  where  the  peas  and  corn  now  grow  within  the  hedge,  he 
was  wont  to  see  his  Anne  Hatheway.  Within  lived  old  John 
Hatheway,  whose  beautiful  daughter  the  poet  espoused.  Imagi 
nation  could  run  wild  in  picturing  scenes  hereabout,  with 
Shakspeare  for  the  hero ;  but  most,  it  loves  in  this  rural  spot 
to  paint  him  as  the  gentle  Shakspeare, 


"  Fancy's  child 


Warbling  his  native  wood-notes  wild." 

Nine  miles  from  Warwick  are  these  localities  which  are  so 
rich  in  memory.  Over  a  lovely  landscape  winds  the  large  and 
shaded  road — a  landscape,  ever  fringed  with  green  hedges  and 
yellow  with  the  abundant  harvest.  The  people  of  this  region  I 
liked.  They  seerned  affable  and  gentle,  compared  to  the  ordi 
nary  rude  and  rough  people  to  be  met  with  around  London  and 
Windsor.  An  Englishman  generally  acts  as  if  he  thought  it 
extremely  feminine  to  move  out  of  the  road  or  show  a  civility. 
Ladies  are  to  him,  apparently,  objects  upon  which  he  may 
exhibit  his  characteristic  rudeness.  Of  course  there  are  excep 
tions  to  this  ;  but  we  have  found  them  rare.  In  Italy  or 
France  we  have  never  known  an  incivility.  But  here,  from  the 
porters  of  public  places,  the  drivers  of  omnibuses,  and  from 
the  officers  of  the  railroads,  we  have  received  a  nameless  gruff- 
ness,  which  may  be  accounted  manliness,  but  which  is  certainly 
ill-breeding  and  gross  impudence.  The  policemen  are  conspicu 
ous  exceptions.  From  them  one  may  learn  every  direction,  with 
the  utmost  blandness  and  good  nature.  In  Turkey,  in  Greece, 


390  AVON,—SIIAKSPEAR&S  HOME. 

in  Italy  and  France,  and  especially  in  Switzerland,  we  have 
found  our  guides  and  waiters  always  pervious  to  good  humor, 
and  exceedingly  apt  at  joking  and  pleasant  conversation — ever 
ready  to  understand  and  join  heartily  in  a  laugh.  Not  so  in 
England.  There  is  a  sort  of  pseudo-dignity  which  renders  each 
good-humored  sympathy  as  much  feared  as  poison.  Sam  Wel- 
lers  are  rarce  aves.  Honest,  credulous,  pompous  Pickwicks  are 
common.  They  are  ever  ready  to  receive  with  implicitness 
the  most  improbable  story,  if  it  is  out  of  their  sphere,  which 
consists  of  an  experience  in  English  breakfasts  and  dinners,  and 
reading  the  Times.  Far  better  informed  about  England  is  our 
population,  than  the  population  of  England  about  America. 
The  ordinary  people  want  to  know  if  we  have  telegraphs  and 
railroads ;  and  when  informed  of  their  extent  in  our  country, 
receive  the  information  with  the  amazement  and  the  implicit 
reliance  which  a  revelation  from  Heaven  would  engender. 
Several  times  we  have  been  the  object  of  special  wonder  beca.use 
we  spoke  English  like  one  of  themselves,  and  because  we  were 
— white ! 

It  is  no  uncommon  subject  of  merriment  among  Americans, 
that  even  well-educated  Englishmen  have  frequently  asked  the 
most  unsophisticated  questions  in  relation  to  our  society,  its 
language  and  customs. 


XXXIV. 

51  (giant*  flt 

*  The  grave  abound  in  pleasantries,  the  dull  in  repartees  and  points  of  wit." 

Addison. 

IT  would  be  ungracious  in  the  extreme  to  suffer  the  fatigues 
of  a  voyage  from  America,  and  return  without  a  glimpse,  at 
least,  of  Ireland.  We  have  devoted,  therefore,  the  last  ten 
days  of  our  stay  to  a  circuit  which  includes  Dublin  and  Belfast, 
and  extends  into  Scotland. 

We  awoke  at  Kingstown,  Ireland,  this  morning,  the  24th  of 
August.  Hurriedly  dressing,  we  rushed  out  of  the  boat,  for 
the  Dublin  cars.  It  was  raining.  Not  being  perfectly  awake, 
I  did  not  perceive  the  state  of  the  weather,  until  some  broth  of 
a  boy,  with  a  carriage,  shouted,  '  Sure,  and  is  it  the  likes  of  you 
that  will  let  your  leddies  walk  in  the  rain?'  while  another,  a 
porter,  suggested  to  my  companion :  '  An  it's  you  that's  so  well 
dressed,  that  you  will  not  carry  your  own  portmanteau?'  I  felt 
sure  that  I  was  in  Ireland. 

Dublin  town  is  remarkable  for  nothing,  unless  it  be  a  fine 
park,  wide  straight  streets,  an  elegant  custom-house,  brick 
houses,  and  a  monument  or  so.  The  shoeless  women  and  tatter 
ed  children  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  bespeak  the  truth,  that  Ire 
land  is  indeed  wedded  to  poverty.  A  great  many  persons  from 
too  much  zeal  in  Protestantism,  attribute  all  the  misery  of  Ire 
land  to  her  peculiar  religion.  The  mischief  lies  deeper, — in  the 
tenure  of  the  soil.  No  one  can  travel  through  the  Catholic  coun 
tries  which  we  have  seen,  especially  those  in  Switzerland,  and  con 
clude  that  Catholicism,  in  and  of  itself,  tends  to  produce  pover 
ty,  or  that  it  is  not  favorable,  when  left  free  and  pure,  uncon- 


392  A   GLANCE  AT  IRELAND. 

nected  with  politics,  to  the  growth  of  manliness  and  virtue. 
A  more  generous  and  a  nobler  people  never  lived  than  some  of 
those  Alpine  Catholics.  The  same  may  be  said  of  some  parts 
of  Germany.  At  Heidelberg,  we  found  the  pleasing  anomaly 
of  Catholic  and  Protestant  simultaneously  worshipping  in  the 
same  church.  The  people  there  seem  pervaded  with  the  gentle 
tolerance  of  Melancthon,  who  was  educated  at  Heidelberg  Uni 
versity.  What  a  shame  it  is.  that  the  people  of  Ireland  are  not 
permitted  to  enjoy  their  own  religion  with  the  same  freedom 
with  which  the  Protestants  of  England  enjoy  theirs. 

Catholicism  is  as  much  the  religion  of  the  Irish  people  as 
Protestantism  is  that  of  England.  For  years  its  enjoyment, 
under  such  officers  and  in  such  modes  as  they  might  see  fit,  has 
been  guaranteed.  Even  the  English  Lord-lieutenant  has  ad 
dressed  the  Catholic  primates,  by  the  titles  which  they  have  here 
assumed,  and  has  sent  soldiers  to  guard  their  assemblies  from 
disturbance  ;  when,  all  at  once,  on  the  pretext  afforded  by  Car 
dinal  Wiseman's  case,  these  titles  are  declared  illegal/as  well  in 
Ireland  as  in  England  ;  and  penalties  enacted  against  those 
who  wear  them,  as  if  they  were  in  a  horrible  conspiracy  against 
the  majesty  of  Victoria.  How  magnanimous  this,  most  truly  ! 
What  if  the  Roman  cardinals  be  corrupt,  as  no  doubt  they  are  ; 
what  if  English  Protestant  worship  be  hardly  tolerated  at 
Rome  ;  what  if  the  good-hearted  Pope  issues  his  rescript  ?  Is 
there  any  danger  herein  to  the  English  hierarchy  ?  and  if  there 
were,  shall  the  Irish  clergy  be  placed  under  ban  and  penalty 
therefor,  especially  after  so  long  an  encouragement  ?  Into  what 
dilemmas  and  absurdities  will  not  a  nation  run,  that  does  not 
strictly  adhere  to  the  most  unlimited  toleration,  or  that  connects 
its  civil  with  its  religious  establishment.  A  great  meeting  of 
Irish  clergymen  and  people,  has  lately  been  held.  There  is  but 
one  spirit  breathing  throughout  their  proceedings, — united  re 
sistance  to  this  unexampled  aggression.  England  could  not 
render  Ireland  more  ungovernable  by  any  other  act  than  that 
of  the  last  session  about  the  ecclesiastical  titles,  for  it  strikes 


A   GLANCE  AT  IRELAND.  393 

at  her  religion — the  most  sensitive  part  of  every  society.  Let 
resistance,  strong  and  steadfast,  be  made  ;  and  let  the  American 
people,  Catholic  and  Protestant,  sympathize  in  a  movement, 
whose  object  is  to  resist  the  most  miserable  intolerance  that  has 
disgraced  the  English  statute-book  since  the  time  when  Dissen 
ters  and  Catholics  alike,  were  at  the  mercy  of  Jeffries,  and  when 
conformity  to  the  established  church,  was  a  principle  and  a 
practice,  at  once  repugnant  to  reason  and  humanity. 

The  Church  of  England  can  gain  nothing,  but  must  lose  much, 
by  its  coercive  measures  towards  the  Catholics.  Persecution 
will  do  its  old  work,  by  creating  devotees  around  the  altars  of 
the  persecuted. 

It  is  Sunday  in  Dublin.  They  call  it  a  "  walking  Sunday," 
because  there  are  no  festivities  or  glees  on  hand,  but  every  one 
walks  about  soberly  and  decently ;  a  prelude  to  the  uproariousness 
of  the  coming  Fair  week.  To-morrow  the  grand  fair  begins  at 
Donnybrook,  a  little  streamlet,  upon  whose  banks  the  Irish 
gather  in  crowds,  to  spend  and  lose  all  they  have,  in  gaming, 
drinking  and  dancing.  We  took  a  car,  an  outside  one,  and  vis 
ited  the  spot,  in  company  with  Mr.  Mowatt,  a  friend  in  Dublin, 
whose  humor  was  as  amusing  as  his  attentions  were  kind.  The 
car  is  peculiar  in  itself,  and  peculiar  to,  as  well  as  common  in, 
Dublin.  It  is  a  sulky,  with  low  wheels,  and  seats  directly  over 
the  wheels.  The  passengers  ride  sideways,  their  feet  resting 
outside  the  wheels  on  a  footboard,  and  the  driver  sits  aloft  upon 
a  seat  in  front,  full  of  wit,  which,  like  his  whip,  is  constantly  on 
the  crack.  Six  can  ride  on  the  outside.  It  is  like  an  omnibus 
on  two  wheels,  with  all  the  top  off.  and  the  seats  back  to  back — 
very  light,  and  a  convenient  observatory  of  men  and  manners  in 
the  streets.  We  arrived  at  Donnybrook,  and  found  many  thou 
sands  gathered  in  the  green  fields,  looking  at  the  erection  of  the 
booths,  preparatory  for  the  morrow.  Already  the  houses  and 
taverns  about  were  full  of  revellers.  Scotch  whiskey,  bagpipes 
and  fiddling,  were  going,  in  conjunction  with  pattering  feet  upon 
sanded  floors.  Pipes  and  apples,  toys  and  cakes,  were  being 


394  A   GLANCE  AT  IRELAND. 

vended  by  witty  rogues.  But  every  thing  was  decent,  and  in 
order.  The  "  bating  the  police  with  shillelaghs,"  and  the  bloody 
noses,  do  not  become  dramatic,  until  the  fair  is  fairly  opened. 
Then  look  out ! 

Passing  fine  houses,  and  through  airy  streets,  enjoying  the 
humorous  repartees  of  our  driver,  we  drove  by  Nelson's  column, 
and  penetrated  the  Park.  It  is  an  extremely  large  area,  full  of 
deer  and  game,  and  specially  kept  for  the  recreation  of  the  Lord- 
lieutenant.  A  fine  monument  to  Wellington,  not  unlike  that  of 
Bunker  Hill,  is  in  the  midst,  overlooking  the  hills  of  green  upon 
the  south,  and  the  city  with  its  river  Anne  Liffey  (named  after 
a  King's  daughter  who  was  drowned  in  it  whilome),  over  whose 
waters  are  numerous  handsome  bridges,  connecting  the  city. 
Nelson  and  Wellington  !  England's  proudest  boast ;  the  hero  of 
the  sea,  and  the  hero  of  the  land.  Why  should  they  be  so  con 
spicuously  honored  by  Ireland  ?  Why  ?  Because  they  remem 
bered  England's  glory,  and  not  Irish  ruth  ?  The  Duke  has  been 
indeed  "  iron,"  so  far  as  Ireland  claimed  his  sympathy.  He  has 
none  of  the  impetuous  open-heartedness  which  ever  marks  the 
true  son  of  Erin. 

To-day  we  have  experienced  very  cold  weather.  It  may  be 
accounted  for  here  in  this  wise.  It  is  the  24th  of  August,  St. 
Bartholomew's  day.  The  Irish  have  a  maxim, 

"St.  Bartholomew 
Brings  the  cold  dew." 

Upon  this  day  he  puts  a  stone  into  the  waters,  which  turns 
the  river-water  all  cold,  and  the  well-water  all  warm ;  and  this 
continues  until  St.  Patrick's  day,  17th  of  March,  when  that 
clever  old  saint  turns  the  stone,  and  renders  the  wells  cold,  and 
the  rivers  warm.  How  many  scientific  disquisitions  and  me 
teorological  observations  are  saved  by  such  a  simple  tradition  ! 

There  are  two  extensive  poor-houses  here,  with  over  ten 
thousand  in  each ;  and  yet  the  beggars  of  Dublin  are  as  thick 
as  leaves  at  Vallarnbrosa.  The  country  looks  finely,  the  harvests 


A   GLANCE  AT  IRELAND,  395 

are  heavy,  and  the  large  park,  eight  miles  around,  seems  to  smile 
derisively  at  the  poverty  of  the  people.  Land  owners  live  in 
England,  and  their  agents  remain  here  to  rob  both  them  and  the 
tenants.  Here  is  the  capital  defect  of  the  social  system.  It 
needs  an  axe  at  the  root. 

We  took  but  a  glance  of  Northern  Ireland,  and  this  portion 
of  the  isle  is  almost  a  Paradise,  compared  to  the  southern  por 
tion,  where  starvation  ever  cowers  and  shivers.  And  yet  no  part 
of  any  land  that  we  have  seen,  reveals  so  much  destitution,  rags 
and  beggary,  as  the  north  of  Ireland.  Of  Belfast  I  can  but  say, 
that  no  American  city  of  the  same  size  presents  so  much  activity 
and  commercial  life  ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  laid  out  with 
an  elegance  which  betokens  foresight  and  grace.  Belfast  is  the 
seat  of  the  linen  manufacture.  The  fields  in  and  around  it  were 
snow  white  with  linen  blanching  in  the  sun ;  while  the  country 
between  Drogheda  and  Belfast  waved  with  the  flax,  some  of 
which  was  in  process  of  pulling.  But  the  towns  between  Dublin 
and  Belfast,  including  Drogheda — what  a  picture  of  poverty  did 
they  present !  The  women,  in  tatters,  hung  around  our  vehicle, 
and  when  it  drove  off,  boys  by  the  dozen  ran  after  us,  turning 
somersets,  and  using  every  insinuation  which  native  Irish  wit 
could  suggest,  to  obtain  alms.  "  Will  you  !  ivill  you ! — gentle- 
mon,  throw  me  a  ha'penny?"  and  with  other  exclamations,  they 
followed  until  the  ha'penny  was  thrown,  when  a  young  Irish 
melee  occurred  in  a  scramble  for  the  copper,  which  generally 
issued  in  some  bloody  noses,  that  required  additional  coppers  to 
stanch.  It  was  no  better,  if  bread  was  thrown.  A  company  of 
famished  wolves  could  not  dart  with  more  singleness,  or  less 
ferocity  of  purpose,  after  the  bread.  And  yet  in  this  depth  of 
poverty  the  gleams  of  an  invincible  humor  flashed  from  the 
laughing  lips  of  the  little  starveling  imps ;  as  it  were,  gleams  of 
sunshine  in  bright  cheerful  bars,  irradiating  a  dungeon's  dark 
ness. 

How  kindly  is  that  Providence  distributed,  which  thus 
lightens  the  fetters  of  circumstance.  Who  knows  what  genius 


396  A   ^LANCE  AT  lit  EL  AND. 

lives,  waiting  development,  in  these  elfish  urchins,  that  emit  such 
sparkles  of  fun,  as  they  run  after  the  traveller  for  the  penny  ? 
The  atmosphere  of  gross  earthliness  encircles  and  taints  the 
clear  beams  of  that  soul  which  God  has  created  with  such  subtle 
yet  latent  apprehension.  It  is  solid  truth,  that  there  are  hidden 
energies  under  the  clouds  of  ignorance.  This  is  the  seminal 
principle  of  our  educational  systems — the  germ  of  that  hopeful 
ness,  from  which  the  stability  of  the  future,  as  well  as  the  pro 
gressiveness  of  the  race,  spring.  Would  that  these  young  bios 
soming  energies,  only  blooming  to  be  nipped  by  "  the  eager  air" 
of  poverty  and  crime,  could  be  early  transplanted  to  a  more 
genial  soil ! 

The  country  looks  as  if  already  deserted  by  its  working 
people.  Houses  are  empty,  fields  look  neglected,  and  hedges 
are  untrimmed.  True,  there  is  a  heavy  harvest ;  but  it  is  gather 
ed  by  hands  that  work  slowly,  and  that  lack  the  impulse  which 
proprietorship  and  enjoyment  ever  bestow.  We  understood  that 
those  who  were  gathering  the  crop  of  wheat,  and  of  flax,  received 
but  a  ha'penny  per  day  !  To  be  sure  they  were  found — but  a 
cent  a  day  for  harvest  hands !  Some  index  of  the  prevailing 
destitution  may  be  found  in  the  signs  so  common,  "  Licensed 
to  sell  spirits,"  and  the  crowd  of  idlers  which  such  signs  always 
collect.  This  may,  in  part,  account  for  the  mud-houses,  where 
filth  and  poverty  are  the  presiding  Penates.  But  where  are  the 
gilded  flies  that  fatten  on  this  corruption?  Where  are  the 
landlords  who  dole  out  their  ha'pennies  per  diem  to  these  images 
of  Grod,  for  the  use  of  their  muscles  and  energies  ?  Oh !  living 
in  England  most  sumptuously.  They  heed  not  the  shriek  of 
penury  for  bread.  They  affect  to  believe  that  no  faces  are  sal 
low,  that  no  sunken  eyes  peer  out  of  their  tenant  mud-houses. 
The  curses  of  the  destitute  muttered  in  secret,  give  them  a  sul 
len  joy,  that  their  lot  is  not  like  that  of  the  ungovernable,  un- 
tractable,  and  whiskey-drinking  Irish. 

Even  Belfast,  so  beautiful  and  prosperous,  is  not   wanting 


A   GLANCE  AT  IRELAND.  397 

in  illustrations  of  Irish  destitution.  They  crowd  around  the 
hotels,  and  besiege  the  landings.  The  heart  grows  sad  and 
heavy  to  see  so  much  of  the  same  wretchedness.  Would  to  God 
that  some  relief  could  be  discerned  for  Ireland  !  England  will 
only  learn  how  to  treat  her,  when  she  finds  the  green  isle  de 
populated  by  emigration. 


XXA ,  .    . 

Irntrlj  Irmrq  utifr 

"  Eear  high  thy  bleak  majestic  bills, 

Thy  sheltered  valleys  proudly  spread, 
And,  Scotia,  pour  thy  thousand  rills, 
And  wave  thy  heaths  with  blossoms  red." 

Roscoe. 

HOW  different  is  Scotland  in  its  social  appearance  from  im 
poverished  Ireland  !  We  hear  the  same  peculiar  intonations 
of  voice,  called  the  brogue,  and  this,  with  the  peat  beds,  is  about 
all  that  resembles  Ireland.  You  may  remember,  however,  that 
the  north  of  Ireland  was  originally  settled  by  the  Scotch.  This 
will  account  for  the  similarity  of  brogue. 

We  left  Belfast  at  sundown,  and  arrived  at  Ayr,  not  very  far 
from  the  mouth  of  bonnie  Doon,  by  sunrise.  Here,  where  Burns 
used  to  walk  and  sing,  we  met  the  first  genuine  Scotchmen  on 
their  native  heaths,  and  heard  the  musical  cadences  of 

"That  tongue  which  Godlike  heroes  spoke, 

Which  Oram,  Ullin,  Ossian,  sung; 
The  tongue  which  spurned  the  Roman  yoke, 
When  thraldom  o'er  the  world  was  flung." 

But  since  we  landed  at  Ayr,  we  have  heard  it  in  the  Highlands, 
where  Sandy  spoke  the  unquestioned  Gaelic  drawn  from  an  un- 
defiled  well,  and  where  scawns  and  oaten-meal  cakes  were  eaten, 
and  the  descendants  of  the  clans  prided  themselves  upon  their 
brave  ancestry. 

Our  ride  to  Glasgow  by  rail  from  Ayr  upon  a  rainy  morning, 
was  without  incident.  The  great  commercial  metropolis  of  Scot- 


SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND   GENIUS.  399 

land,  I  had  almost  said  of  Great  Britain,  for  it  is  the  third  city 
of  the  realm,  has  a  noble  history,  as  well  as  numerous  points  of 
local  interest.  The  reader  of  Scotch  history  and  literature 
will  need  no  refreshing,  as  to  the  scenes  here  enacted,  when  the 
Covenant  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death  ;  or  when  Bailie  Nichol 
Jarvie  here  lived  and  gossipped.  The  Clyde  has  formed  many 
associations  with  the  minds  of  the  gifted  in  its  ebbing  and  flow 
ing  ;  and  none  stronger  than  that  with  the  poet  Campbell,  who 
was  born  at  Glasgow ;  and  who,  after  a  long  absence  from  his 
native  stream  and  city,  found  the  nineteenth  century  at  work, 
with  its  coal  and  iron  elements,  destroying  much  of  the  poetry 
of  the  spot.  He  found  it  improved  as  we  in  America  would 
say  ;  and  lamented  in  verse, 

"  That  it  no  more  through  pastoral  scenes  should  glide, 
My  Wallace's  own  stream,  and  once  romantic  Clyde." 

On  going  up  the  Clyde,  we  found  it  full  of  craft.  Iron  steam 
ers  were  plying  up  and  down  its  muddy  waters.  Thousands 
of  workmen  were  repairing  and  building  other  iron  steam 
ers.  The  clink  of  hammers  resounded  on  every  side.  Energy 
never  lags  or  slackens  here.  No  wonder,  with  such  calls  as  the 
world  makes  for  Scotch  iron  and  Scotch  machinery. 

Material  prosperity  walks  abreast  with  charity  and  education 
in  Glasgow.  You  may  see  this,  without  examining  statistics,  in 
the  bright  benevolent  faces  which  pass  you  on  the  pave.  My 
time  will  not  permit  me  to  speak  of  the  monuments,  edifices  and 
institutions  of  this  city.  I  would  love  to  do  so,  for  there  is  a 
close  similitude  between  the  American  and  Scotch  character  in  all 
its  developments,  which  is  worthy  of  a  Plutarch's  parallel.  The 
" perfervidum  ingenium  Scotorum  "  or,  as  the  French  term  it, 
"  Fier  comme  Ecossais"  by  which  they  manage  to  accumulate — 
to  "  get  along  "  in  the  world,  is  so  peculiarly  Yankee,  as  to  have 
attracted  the  attention  of  writers  and  travellers  very  frequently. 
There  is  no  stupidity  or  slowness  in  a  Scotchman's  look  or  move 
ment.  Besides,  the  Scotch  have  the  logic — the  intellect  of 


400  SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND  GENIUS. 

Great  Britain,  that  is,  the  superior  mind,  the  commanding 
mind  of  the  island.  Edinburgh  has  ruled  for  a  half  century 
from  her  throne  of  rocks,  the  realms  of  politics,  taste,  and  phi 
losophy,  with  a  potency  that  Bonaparte  feared,  even  though  it 
was  exercised  by  '  paper  pellets  of  the  brain.'  And  does  she 
not  deserve  the  epithet  of  modern  Athens  ?  Is  she  not  the  "  eye '' 
of  Great  Britain  ?  Was  it  not  by  a  son  of  Caledonia,  that  the 
great,  vital  and  universal  principles  of  political  economy  receiv 
ed  enunciation,  an  enunciation  which  time  has  not  bettered — 
only  confirmed  ?  Is  this  not  the  home  of  Hume,  Browne,  Stuart, 
Scott,  and  Chalmers  ?  But  why  dwell  on  these  elements  of 
greatness. 

Farewell  to  the  sooty  exhalations  of  Glasgow — the  mud 
boats  of  the  Clyde — the  monuments  of  Scott  and  Sir  John 
Moore,  and  the  Necropolis.  Ho  !  for  the  Highlands  !  where  the 
air  of  romance  weaves  its  spell  of  enchantment,  where  nature 
paints  the  heather  and  makes  musical  the  rill,  where  the  Lochs 
reflect  the  Bens,  and  the  old  bare-headed  Bens  are  peopled  with 
cloud  shadows  and  clouds  themselves  ;  where  the  clansmen  once 
fought  in  the  close  defiles,  and  the  misty  heroes  of  Ossian  came 
and  went  like  the  unresting  shadows  which  lie  '  in  bright  un 
certainty,'  upon  the  moving  lake. 

How  had  I  longed  to  see  Lomond  and  Katrine,  with  their 
isles  and  glens,  their  mountains  and  moors  !  Leaving  Glasgow 
in  the  steamer  in  the  afternoon,  we  reach  Dumbarton,  whose 
rock  at  the  junction  of  the  Leven  and  Clyde  rises  to  the  height 
of  nearly  600  feet,  measuring  a  mile  in  circumference  at  its 
base,  terminating  in  two  sharp  points,  studded  with  houses  and 
battlements.  Here,  in  one  of  the  towers  of  Wallace's  seat 
was  the  prison  of  that  warrior,  after  his  base  betrayal  by  Sir 
John  Monteith.  A  goodly  number  of  heroic  adventures,  among 
which  is  the  taking  of  the  castle  at  its  most  formidable  point, 
are  connected  with  Dumbarton.  A  Captain  Crawford,  during 
one  of  those  relentless  wars  which  desolated  Scotland  in  Queen 
Mary's  time,  contrived  by  scaling  ladders  to  reach  the  summit 


SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND   GENIUS.  401 

of  the  crags ;  and  was  proceeding  with  the  men  to  enter  the 
battlements,  when  one  of  them,  while  climbing,  was  struck  with 
apoplexy,  probably  induced  by  excessive  terror.  He  could  nei 
ther  go  up  nor  down.  To  have  slain  him  would  have  been  cruel; 
besides,  his  fall  would  have  created  alarm.  What  was  to  be 
'done  ?  Invincible  to  the  last,  Crawford  tied  him  to  the  ladder, 
then  turned  it  over,  and  with  his  men  gained  the  summit,  by 
mounting  the  other  side  from  that  to  which  the  apoplectic  soldier 
was  tied,  slew  the  sentinel,  and  accomplished  one  of  the  most 
daring  feats  ever  achieved,  even  in  this  wild  Scottish  warfare. 

The  town  of  Dumbarton  has  nothing  in  itself  worthy  of 
notice.  The  old  ruin  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  Clyde  is  the 
Castle  of  Cardross,  where  Robert  Bruce  (whose  crown  we  saw 
to-day  in  the  Castle  of  Edinburgh)  breathed  his  last.  But  if  we 
should  undertake  to  tell  of  all  the  renowned  castles  and  battle 
fields  we  have  seen,  during  the  last  few  days,  a  volume  would  be 
necessary  to  contain  them. 

Let  us  at  once  take  cars,  and  hurry  up  to  Balloch,  where  the 
little  steamer  is  awaiting' us.  The  rain  will  hardly  permit  us 
five  minutes  at  a  time  upon  the  deck.  Clouds,  dark  and  lower 
ing,  roll  over  the  highlands,  and  are  succeeded  by  sunshine. 
Rainbows  and  mountain-tops, — the  purple  heather  of  the  isles 
and  hills, — the  baldness  of  old  Ben  Lomond,  his  head  silvered 
witli  a  cloud,  sunlit  and  beautiful, — the  darkish  waters  of  the 
lake,  vexed  arid  whitened, — together  with  an  original,  sui  generis 
wildness,  that  only  belongs  to  Scottish  scenery, — made  up  a 
view,  our  admiration  for  which  could  not  be  dampened  by  any 
rain  nor  enlivened  by  any  sunshine. 

The  lake  is  full  of  green,  rocky  isles.  Indeed,  Lomond  sig 
nifies  "  many-isled."  As  we  approach  our  destination,  Inverns- 
naid,  the  loch  grows  more  narrow,  until  it  seems  lost  among 
mountains  of  mist.  While  going  along,  gazing  upon  islet  and 
shore,  ever  and  anon  turning  to  see  the  reverend  form  of  Ben 
Lomond,  we  should  not  forget  that  the  fierce  clan  of  the  Mac 
Grregors  were  once  here,  in  their  pride  and  power ;  that  it  was 


402  SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND  GENIUS. 

while  rowing  down  this  loch,  that  the  song  for  the  gathering  of 
the  clan  was  sung : 

"  The  moon 's  on  the  lake,  and  the  mist 's  on  the  brae, 
And  the  clan  has  a  name  that  is  nameless  by  day, 
Then  gather,  gather,  gather,  Gregalich!" 

It  is  pleasant,  too,  to  think,  as  we  step  on  shore  at  Inverns- 
naid,  that  Wordsworth  has  been  here  before  us,  and  that  his 
Muse,  ever  seeking  the  covert  beauties  and  sympathies  of  nature, 
had  rendered  classic  the  spot  and  cascade  by  his  exquisite  poem 
called  "  The  Highland  Girl."  We  rested  all  night  near  the 
cascade,  within  sight  and  hearing  of  its  wild  foaming  and  music. 
From  the  top  of  the  mountain,  over  which  we  go  toward  Katrine, 
it  rushes,  with  many  interpositions  of  rock  and  tree,  bristling 
and  white,  until  it  plunges,  sheer  and  broken,  out  of  a  clump  of 
pines  into  a  boiling  basin,  where  it  hisses  and  steams  until  it 
finds  placidity  in  the  Loch  Lomond  below.  It  was  right  grand 
to  clamber  up  from  crag  to  crag,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  and 
at  last  finding  solid  foothold  under  the  flashing,  foaming  mass, 
and  near  the  trembling,  spraying  abyss, — to  sit  beneath  the 
'sweat  of  great  agony'  wrung  from  out  this  Highland  Phlege- 
thon  that  swayed  in  the  wind  which  roared  madly  up  the  glen 
and  amid  the  brae.  True,  it  was  not  Niagara  ;  nor  are  Lomond, 
Ben  Ledi,  Ben  Ann,  and  their  associates,  like  the  Alps.  They 
are  but  an  abridged  edition  of  them,  with  many  of  the  finest 
figures  and  loftiest  sentiments  omitted ;  yet  how  much  is  here 
for  the  finest  capacity  to  grasp  and  mould  into  mirrors  "  radiant 
with  fair  images."  Wonder  not  that  Fingal,  and  those  children 
of  "the  mist,  waked  by  Ossian,  here  had  their  local  habitation. 
Wonder  not  that  Scott  has  inwoven  such  a  rich  and  weird  web 
of  romance  around 

All  the  fairy  crowds 
Of  islands  that  together  lie 

As  quietly  as  spots  of  sky 
Among  the  evening  clouds. 


SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND  GENIUS.  4Q3 

"Well  have  the  people  of  Edinburgh  erected  the  Gothic  monu 
ment  to  Scott — rising  so  solidly,  yet  so  lightly,  in  such  fair  pro 
portions,  looming  so  loftily  in  the  shadow  of  their  Acropolis  ! 
Well  have  they  honored  Burns  too,  whose  heart  and  soul  sung 
a  song  for  Scotia's  sake,  and  whose  genius  has  rendered  more 
immortal  than  the  Alps  the  mountains  of  Caledonia.  Scott  and 
Burns  ! — noble  duumvirate  !  They  have  monuments — not  alone 
in  Edinburgh,  but  every  peak  and  castled  crag  form  monuments 
to  their  undying  fame  ! 

Why — what  is  that  wild  Loch  Katrine,  with  its  green  gem 
called  Ellen's  Isle — its  Rob  Roy's  prison ;  its  Rhoderick  Dhu's 
watchtower, — and  its  Ben  Venue ;  its  groves  vocal  with  the 
music  of  birds  ;  its  hundred  white  mountain  streams,  its  bleached 
sand  silvered  by  the  wash  of  the  clear  wave  ;  its  wild  goats  climb 
ing  where  no  other  feet,  save  those  of  the  bird,  can  venture ;  its 
clumps  of  wood  and  ample  fields,  and,  near  by,  its  Trossachs,  so 
wildly  beautiful ;  what  is  all  this  without  the  creative  genius 
which  has  peopled  the  isle,  the  moor,  the  mountain  and  the  glen 
with  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  the  Douglass,  the  merry  roaming 
King  Fitz  James,  and  the  wild  Roderick  ! 

We  found  a  tiny  steamer  ready  to  ply  toward  the  Trossachs, 
and  there  we  found  an  open  carriage  and  an  understanding  driver, 
who  talked  queerly  in  the  Gaelic,  as  he  gave  us  the  legend  which 
clung  to  each  spot  to  beautify  and  embalm. 

A  few  hours'  ride  and  we  were  in  sight  of  Stirling  Castle. 
The  superior  attraction  of  this  brave  old  rocky  seat  of  power, 
drowns  the  associations  of  the  Highlands.  We  cannot  stop  to 
paint  the  scene  where  Roderick  and  Fitz  James  fought,  nor 
where  the  latter  lost  his  gallant  gray ;  for  we  are  surmounting 
at  Stirling  the  very  seat  of  James  V.  himself;  around  which  the 
sports  and  games  of  the  olden  time  were  enacted.  We  enter  the 
halls  of  the  kings — look  at  each  old  memento,  not  forgetting  the 
big  tarpaulin-looking  hat  worn  by  Cromwell.  I  am  no  hero- 
worshipper,  but  there  are  some  peculiarities  which  Old  Noll  had 
that  tickle  my  fancy,  if  they  do  not  engage  my  worship,  such  as 


404  SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND   GENIUS. 

praying  with  a  lot  of  solemn  Scotchmen  from  six  in  the  after 
noon  till  three  in  the  morning,  in  order  to  lull  suspicion,  and 
create  the  impression  that  he  was  quite  godly. 

The  view  from  Stirling  Castle  is  magnificent,  only  surpassed 
in  Scotland  by  the  view  we  enjoyed  to-day  from  the  Castle  of 
Edinburgh.  Below  are  the  garden  spots  once  laid  out  by  the 
mother  of  Queen  Mary,  and  to  the  north  is  a  small  castle,  where* 
so  many  executions  took  place,  and  where  the  death  axe  sounded 
so  frequently. 

Not  far,  is  the  scene  of  one  of  Sir  William  Wallace's  most 
splendid  engagements,  where  he  disputed  the  passage  of  the 
Forth  by  the  English  army  under  Cressingham.  The  High 
lands  stretch  with  a  bold  sweep  upon  the  distant  horizon.  From 
Stirling  towers,  where  often  the  spectator  of  many  a  bloody  fray 
stood  poised  betwixt  hope  and  fear,  we  took  our  final  view  of 
those  homes  of  song  and  story, — those  Highlands,  where  the  mist 
seems  continually  to  hover,  and  the  hardy  heather  seems  ever  to 
bloom. 

The  railroad  whirls  us  past  many  a  scene  renowned,  prime 
among  which  is  that  famous  field  of  Bannockburn,  where  Bruce 
won  the  day  against  more  than  double  his  number. 

We  have  spent  two  days  in  Edinburgh,  never  ceasing  to  ad 
mire  its  architectural  elegance,  both  in  church  and  mansion,  in 
castle  and  monument.  But  most  is  the  city  to  be  remembered 
for  its  Acropolis — that  feature  which  makes  it  akin  to  Athens. 
The  view  from  it  is  inspiriting  and  noble,  expanding  the  soul,  and 
almost  fitting  it  with  wings  "  wherewith  to  scorn  the  earth." 
But  wherever  we  go.  whether  to  Scott's  monument,  to  the  Old 
Parliament  House,  to  St.  Giles,  where  Knox  talked  gospel,  where 
llcgent  Stuart  lies,  and  Napier  the  author  of  the  Logarithms  re 
poses,  and  where  the  Covenant  was  signed,  to  Calton  Hill,  where 
monuments  and  a  fragmentary  temple  mark  it  prominently ; 
whether  to  the  old  Tolbooth  or  down  Canonsgate  ;  in  oldj-own  or 
new;  whether  we  enter  the  old  room  where  Queen  Mary  slept,  in  the 
castle,  or  look  at  the  palace  of  Holyrood. — the  talk  and  the  cry 


SCOTCH  SCENERY  AND   GENIUS.  405 

is  "  the  Queen !  the  Queen  ! !"  and  sure  enough,  at  three  o'clock 
all  Edinburgh,  and  the  adjacent  country  had  assembled  near  the 
ancient  Holyrood,  and  under  the  shadow  and  upon  the  green 
sides  of  Salisbury  crags,  to  see  Victoria  and  her  handsome  hus 
band.  We  mingled  with  the  mass,  saw  the  royal  folk  (plainly 
dressed  people,  and  really  human),  and  can  avouch  that  no  osten 
tation  was  displayed  by  royalty  on  this  occasion.  The  Queen 
wore  a  very  ordinary  bonnet,  without  ribbons,  shading  a  reddish 
ordinary  countenance  ;  while  Prince  Albert  looked  like  a  sensi 
ble,  good-natured,  honest  German  gentleman,  as  he  undoubtedly 
is.  Had  we  no  other  evidence  of  the  latter  fact,  we  might  find  it 
in  the  model  house  which  he  invented  and  caused  to  be  erected 
near  the  Exhibition  Palace,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  how  com 
fortably  the  poor  might  be  provided  for,  with  little  expense. 

There  was  great  excitement  in  the  city.  The  Provost  was 
knighted  by  a  tap  on  the  shoulder  from  the  little  Regina  ; 
Holyrood  smoked  and  gleamed  with  life  ,•  the  people  were  in 
groups  about  it ;  the  railroad  cars  stood  crowned  and  garlanded 
near  ;  for  the  Queen  was  there  in  that  old  home  of  power,  about 
to  leave  •  and  Loyalty  stood  without,  ready  to  hurrah  and  throw 
up  its  hat ! 

From  Edinburgh  our  course  was  over  the  Border ;  not  omit 
ting,  by  the  way,  a  visit  to  Melrose  Abbey,  the  delicate  beauty 
of  whose  ruins,  Poetry  has  for  ever  enshrined  ;  to  Dryburgh  Ab 
bey,  the  place  of  sepulture  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  rich  in  an 
old  Druidical  umbrage  and  in  its  ivied  hangings;  to  Abbotsford, 
the  repository  of  the  Antiquary's  curiosities,  and  the  home  of 
the  Author  of  Waverly  ;  to  Fountain  Abbey,  in  North  England, 
— an  immense  ruin  in  the  noble  park  of  Earl  Grey,  with  all 
the  relics  of  the  monastic  age  still  clustering  about  tower  and 
transept,  nave  and  prison,  kitchen  and  cloister  ;  and  not  omitting 
either  the  castles,  gray  and  black,  which  frowned  in  early  days 
defiant  at  each  other  across  the  Border,  now  in  the  decrepitude 
of  age,  Hut,  like  old  soldiers,  still  vaunting  their  wounds  and 


406  SCOTCH  SCENERY  ANJ)  GENIUS. 

strength  even  in  decay.  Such  visits  were  not  made,  be  it  ever 
remembered,  without  crossing  thy  stream,  rushing,  romantic 
Tweed  !  nor  without  admiring  the  select  diversity  of  pastoral 
beauty,  majestic  hills,  arching  bridges,  splendid  palaces,  and  the 
wizard  enchantment  which  dwell  in  thy  sweet  valley,  Teviot- 
dale! 


XXXVI. 

(Crnssittg  tlje  96nrtor,  irai  tjp  <0fir  S 


;  Within  the  quiet  of  the  convent  cell, 
The  well-fed  inmates  pattered  prayer,  and  slept, 
And  sinned,  and  liked  their  penance  well." 

Bryant. 


THIS  last  day  of  summer  has  met  us  with  a  most  delightful 
sunshine  in  this  capital  of  North  England,  the  ancient  city 
of  York.  It  comes,  too,  upon  the  holy  day,  when  the  air  is 
hushed.  A  quietude  of  unaccustomed  delight  seems  showered 
upon  field  and  grove,  minster  and  wall,  as  the  sunlight  glances 
upon  the  earth.  The  cool  air,  which  has  so  long  followed  us 
through  Scotland,  and  down  to  this  city,  gently  gives  way  before 
the  warming  radiance.  The  influence  woos  one  from  the  fire 
side. 

Through  manifold  turnings,  the  ancient  walls  of  the  city  are 
gained,  and  easily  ascended.  How  exhilarating  is  the  Sabbath- 
morning  walk  along  the  gray  battlements  !  Spring  hath  come 
again  in  seeming.  The  birds  in  the  apple-trees  below  are  almost 
as  numerous  as  the  fruitage,  and  twitter  with  so  transporting  a 
melody,  that  Silence  herself  seemeth  to  listen.  It  is  indeed  a 
1  merry,  merry  sunshine.'  The  green  hedges  glisten  with  the 
freshening  morning.  The  lowing  of  the  kine,  ever  and  anon,  is 
borne  toward  the  walls  from  the  country  beyond  ;  while,  as  I 
turn,  the  city  appears  to  rest  solemnly  and  still  as  the  gray  walls 
themselves.  Chimney-stacks  no  longer  stream  with  smoke. 
Their  week-day  work  is  done.  They  join  the  spires  in  their 


408  CROSSING  THE  BORDER 

silent  gesture  upward.  The  Minster — that  old  York  Minster, 
so  celebrated  in  annals,  and  so  glorious  in  structure — stands  out 
prominently  in  the  glistening  air,  with  its  lofty  tower  of  solid 
masonry,  companioned  by  two  other  towers,  '  with  spiry  turrets 
crowned,'  high  above  the  Gothic  arches  and  niches  which  grace 
the  body  of  the  immense  pile.  The  eye  glances  at  many  an  old 
and  humble  church,  with  stained  windows  and  blackened  stone, 
half  hid  in  the  green  copses  and  red-tiled  houses  which,  inter 
mingling,  give  the  city  a  rural  aspect.  The  slate  roofs  here  and 
there  may  be  seen  by  the  dazzling  glance  of  the  sun  upon  them, 
which,  upon  this  last  summer  day,  makes  all  nature  shimmer  in 
the  grateful  sheen.  The  chimes  begin  their  morning  hymn,  in 
undating  the  glittering  landscape  with  viewless  waves  of  sound. 

This  is  a  scene  that  awakens  many  a  memory  which  the 
English  classics  have  implanted  by  their  faithful  delineations  of 
English  town  and  country.  Cowper  and  Thomson  are  beneath 
my  eye  in  their  placid,  bright,  original  features.  How  blessed 
is  that  country  which  can  boast  so  glorious  a  landscape — so 
green,  so  goodly,  so  pleasing,  '  that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  is  not 
more  charming  !'  How  doubly  blessed  is  that  country  whose 
native  genius  hath  painted,  in  undying  language,  the  quiet 
beauty  and  cheerful  spirit  that  brood  over  field  and  city,  dale 
and  hill  ! 

There  is  a  similar  pensive  beauty  clinging  to  the  country 
throughout  the  North  of  England  and  the  South  of  Scotland — 
and  which  may  be  called  '  the  Border' — that  pleases,  and  en 
genders  a  deep  devotional  spirit  while  it  pleases.  Was  it  not 
this  peculiarity  which  led  to  the  erection  of  such  piles  as  Mel- 
rose  Abbey,  Dryburgh  Abbey,  and  Fountain  Abbey  ?  But  of 
these  by  and  by,  when  we  take  the  reader  over  the  border. 

The  tramp  of  many  feet  upon  the  pavements  indicates  the 
church-going  crowd.  We  have  been  too  long  absent  from  wor 
ship  not  to  wish  for  an  hour's  communion  in  the  house  of  God. 
A  stranger  need  not  inquire  the  way  to  York  Minster  ;  for  it  is 
its  own  great  guide  to  its  own  great  temple.  It  cannot  be  sur- 


. 


Ay  I)    THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  409 

veyed  with  as  much  effect  from  any  other  point  as  from  the 
large  green  upon  the  north.  Buildings  surround  it  upon  the 
other  sides,  which  forbid  a  view  commensurate  with  its  extent 
and  grandeur.  Its  form  is  that  of  a  cross  ;  and  its  appearance, 
except  in  a  small  portion,  is  rather  new,  compared  with  other 
minsters  of  England. 

We  spent  some  time  under  an  ivy  shade,  upon  a  seat  of 
stone,  busying  the  eye  in  climbing  from  point  to  point,  and  un 
ravelling  the  Gothic  complexity  which  binds  the  whole.  If  you 
take  it  apart,  you  may  form  numerous  large  churches  and  chapels, 
each  one  a  marvel;  each  one  having  its  Gothic  arches  and 
niches,  with  windows  whose  dull  colors  from  the  outside  inade 
quately  foretell  the  resplendent  beauties  which  are  revealed 
within.  Flowers  and  leaves,  obdurate  to  frost,  bedeck  each 
pinnacle  ;  while  spire  after  spire  rise  around  like  a  petrified 
forest.  Festoons  of  stone,  richly  carved,  grace  the  different 
arches,  while  in  the  niches  stand  the  forms  of  prophet  and 
saint.  Quaint,  grim,  and  humorous  heads  are  protruded  at 
different  points.  Together,  the  immense  structure  constitutes  a 
maze,  in  which  the  sight  may  wander  and  in  grateful  variety  be 
lost. 

There  can  be  no  question  but  that  the  Gothic  sprung  from 
the  green  alleys  and  branching  trunks  which  beautify  nature. 
If  we  go  within,  and  note  the  lofty  vault,  with  its  intertwisted 
and  adorning  branches  and  foliage,  the  idea  of  a  forest  of  giant 
trees  interlaced,  cannot  be  repressed.  But  as  we  enter,  other 
thoughts  are  ours.  The  organ  swells  in  grand  symphony,  filling 
the  large  temple  with  a  harmonious  complexity  of  music,  which 
well  befits  such  a  Gothic  pile.  Service  has  begun.  The  choir 
is  full  of  worshippers.  The  chanting  floats  mildly  "  upon  the 
easy  bosom  of  the  air."  The  bishop  enters  the  chancel  with  two 
other  ecclesiastics,  preceded  by  an  usher  bearing  a  silver  rod.  I 
am  a  novice  in  these  ceremonies,  having  been  reared  in  "  Dis 
sent,"  and  cannot  call  things  by  their  right  names.  But  that 
does  not  prevent  an  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  service  in 


410  CROSSING  THE  BORDER, 

choice  English,  which  issues  from  the  lips  of  the  venerable 
prelate,  and  finds  reponse  in  the  choir,  from  the  lips  of  a  score  of 
youths  in  white  dresses,  whose  tenor  voices,  under  some  master- 
tone,  rise  and  fall  sweetly  in  unison  with  the  organ's  swell  and 
cadence.  Near  by,  the  unresting  eye  discovers  a  saintly  and 
martial  company,  wholly  unmoved  by  this  discourse  of  praise. 
In  stony  immovableness  they  repose  upon,  and  kneel  over  their 
own  graves — these  abbots  and  bishops  in  strange  uncouth  dress, 
and  those  soldiers  and  knights  invested  with  mail  and  uniform. 
The  light,  colored  by  the  stained  glass,  irradiates  their  fixed 
features,  fills  the  air  with  its  purple  hue,  rests  against  the  huge 
pillars,  and  tips  the  canopies  of  carved  wood  which  overhang  so 
fitly  the  Gothic  seats. 

I  noticed  here,  as  at  Westminster,  that  much  of  the  old 
manner  and  form  is  preserved.  The  ceremony  which  we  heard 
and  saw  at  Rome  was  here  translated  into  English,  and  pruned 
of  many  of  its  formulas  ;  but  to  us  it  appeared  ceremony  still. 
The  tendency  at  present  in  the  English  church  is  decidedly 
toward  the  formal,  and,  consequently,  from  the  spiritual.  The 
good  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  has  given  notice  to  many  of 
those  who  minister  under  his  charge,  that  he  will  summon  them 
into  his  court,  unless  they  cease  certain  practices  not  "  set 
down"  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  :  to  wit,  lighting  candles 
at  the  altar,  turning  from  the  congregation,  chanting  certain 
parts  of  the  service,  et  ccetcra.  Well,  let  the  prelates  fix  the 
forms  of  their  church  as  best  they  may.  We  simple-worshipping 
Puritans  can  only  hope  that  in  the  form  they  will  ever  enshrine, 
as  they  have  often  enshrined,  the  sincere  spirit ;  and  that  we 
may  never  be  ashamed  of  our  plain  service  and  plain  meeting 
houses,  wherein  the  GREAT  OBJECT  of  all  worship  is  as  accessi 
ble  as  in  Gothic  minsters  or  Italian  basilicas.  Nay,  have  we 
not  what  our  ancestry  had,  and  what  all  mankind  in  common 
have,  that  temple  which  no  human  art  can  adorn,  where  no  ex- 
clusiveness  reigns,  and  where  no  intercessor  intervenes  between 
GOD  and  the  soul  except  the  SAVIOR?  Have  we  not  the  temple 


AND   THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  411 

of  Nature  ?  "  What  a  structure  is  it ;  and  what  a  glorious 
adorning  is  put  upon  it,  to  touch  the  springs  of  imagination  and 
feeling,  and  to  excite  the  principles  of  devotion  !  What  painted 
or  gilded  dome  is  like  that  arch  of  blue  that  swells  above  us  ! 
What  blaze  of  clustered  lamps,  or  even  burning  tapers,  is  like 
the  lamp  of  day  hung  in  the  heavens,  or  the  silent  and  mysteri 
ous  lights  that  burn  for  ever  in  the  far-off  depths  of  the  evening 
sky !  And  what  are  the  splendid  curtains  with  which  the 
churches  of  Rome  are  clothed  for  festal  occasions,  to  the  gor 
geous  clouds  that  float  around  the  pavilion  of  morning  or  the 
tabernacle  of  the  setting  sun  !  And  what  mighty  pavement  of 
tessellated  marble  can  compare  with  the  green  valleys,  the 
enamelled  plains,  the  whole  variegated,  broad  and  boundless 
pavement  of  this  world's  surface,  on  which  the  mighty  congrega 
tion  of  the  children  of  men  are  standing  !  What,  too,  are  altars 
reared  by  human  hands,  compared  with  the  everlasting  moun 
tains — those  altars  in  the  temple  of  nature  ;  and  what  incense 
ever  arose  from  human  altars  like  the  bright  and  beautiful 
mountain  mists  that  float  around  ttiose  eternal  heights,  and  then 
rise  above  them  and  are  dissolved  into  the  pure  and  transparent 
ether,  like  the  fast-fading  shadows  of  human  imperfection,  losing 
themselves  in  the  splendor  of  heaven  !  And  what  voice  ever  spoke 
from  human  altar  like  the  voice  of  the  thunder  from  its  cloudy 
tabernacle  on  those  sublime  heights  of  the  creation  !  And 
what  anthem  or  paean  ever  rolled  from  organ  or  orchestra,  or 
from  the  voice  of  a  countless  multitude,  like  the  dread  and 
deafening  roar  of  ocean,  with  all  its  "  swelling  multitude  of 
waves !" 

For  the  last  few  days  we  have  been  visiting  the  ruins  of 
other  temples,  those  made  with  human  hands,  in  the  middle 
ages.  We  have  been  admiring  the  elegance  of  art,  as  it  sprung 
frjm  the  hands  of  the  old  freemasons,  and  the  spots  where 
burned  the  singular  devotion  of  those  early  scholars  and  monks 
whose  power  evoked  such  beautiful  structures.  We  look  at 
them  more  curiously  than  at  the  great  temple  of  Nature.  Why  1 


CROSSING-   THE  BORDER, 

Because  human,  fraternal  sympathies  draw  us  thither.  We 
feel  that  hearts  once  beat  to  impulses  kindred  with  our  own, 
within  those  cloisters,  where  now  the  tenacious  ivy  clings ;  that 
the  intellects  of  the  patient  schoolmen  here  pondered  the  classic 
tomes  their  hands  preserved,  and  delved  into  dialectics  more 
abstruse  than  any  we  now  have,  and  formed  systems  of  phi 
losophy  as  wonderful  as  they  were  fruitless  ;  and  that  here, 
hospitality  once  gathered  the  wayfarers  around  its  ample  board 
in  the  old  abbey,  where  now  the  velvet  grassplot  grows,  and  the 
traveller  wanders.  It  is  these  kindred  sympathies  which 
make  Melrose,  Dryburgh  and  Fountain  Abbeys,  such  pleasing 
resorts  for  the  traveller.  May  I  not  herein  weave  an  episode  of 
our  pilgrimage  to  these  ancient  shrines  ? 

Edinburgh  was  in  a  tremor  of  excitement  the  morning  we 
left  for  Melrose.  A  crowd  as  great  as  that  which  gathered  the 
evening  before  to  greet  the  Queen,  now  hung  darkling  about  the 
gates  of  Holyrood,  impatient  to  see  her  Majesty  enter  the 
crowned  and  garlanded  car,  which  was  awaiting  her  appearance 
as  we  leisurely  moved  by  in" our  own  unostentatious  conveyance. 
Arthur's  Seat  and  Salisbury  Crags  soon  shut  out  the  classic 
city  of  the  North.  The  tall  castle  and  ever-beauteous  monu 
ment  to  Scott  have  fixed  Edinburgh  in  our  mind  as  deeply  as  the 
Acropolis  and  the  Theseum  have  fixed  Athens.  Around  them 
arise  the  many-storied  dwellings  and  black  old  churches  which 
give  a  peculiar  air  of  antiquity  to  Old  Town,  and  the  neatly- 
pillared  fabrics  which  adorn  the  vicinage  of  Queen-street  and 
Crescent-place  in  New  Town. 

Thirty-seven  miles  from  these  spots,  in  the  fertile  valley  of 
the  Tweed,  where  nature  is  so  richly  diversified  with  pastoral 
slope  and  majestic  hill,  we  found  the  finest  specimen  of  Gothic 
architecture  ever  reared  to  the  honor  of  man  or  the  service  of 
GOD  in  Great  Britain.  Its  peculiarity  consists  not  in  its  size. 
nor  its  stone,  nor  its  form  ;  but  more  especially  in  the  perfec 
tion  of  its  minute  ornaments  every  where  profusely  carved,  and 
its  elegant  proportions  on  every  sides  till  traceable.  Its  form 


AND   THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  413 

was  that  of  the  Latin  cross,  with  a  square  tower  in  the  centre. 
The  choir  and  the  transept  yet  remain.  Our  guide  led  us  into 
them,  and  up  between  the  masonry,  by  narrow  stairways,  upon 
the  walls.  The  west  gable  is  in  ruin.  Over  the  richly-moulded 
Gothic  portal  in  the  south  transept  is  a  magnificent  window, 
the  great  attraction  of  Melrose.  It  is  twenty -four  feet  by 
sixteen,  divided  by  four  bars,  which  interlace  at  the  top  in 
various  curves.  The  stone-work  of  the  window  is  as  perfect  as 
when  the  colored  light  first  beamed  in  upon  the  vocal  choir. 
Nine  nicnes  are  above  this  window,  and  two  on  each  buttress, 
for  images  of  CHRIST  and  His  apostles.  Various  images  yet 
remain  in  their  places.  Sculptured  forms  of  plant  and  animal 
adorn  pedestal,  canopy,  and  buttress.  The  leafy  tracery  is  yet 
to  be  seen,  so  delicate  and  light  that  straws  may  pierce,  and  just 
pierce,  their  minute  orifices.  The  eastern  window  is  particularly 
beautiful,  and  has  been  the  theme  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  poetry. 
He  recommends  the  visitor  to  see  it  when  the  oriel,  the  corbeils, 
grotesque  and  grim,  and  the  pillars,  like  bundles  of  lances  bound 
with  garlands,  are  all  silvered  with  the  mild  moonlight.  We 
can  well  imagine  that,  under  so  magic  an  enchantment,  when 
the  silver  light  edges  the  imagery,  giving  the  semblance  of 
ebony  and  ivory  to  the  delicately-wrought  material,  Melrose 
would  enchain  the  beholder,  as  it  were  some  fairy  creation,  and 
would  justify  the  verse  of  Sir  Walter. 

"Thou  wouldst  have  thought  some  fairy's  hand 
Twixt  poplars  straight  the  osier  wand 
In  many  a  freakish  knot  had  twined ; 
Then  framed  a  spell  when  the  work  was  done, 
And  changed  the  willow  wreaths  to  stone." 

Many  of  the  Douglas  family,  as  well  as  other  noted  persons 
in  Scotch  annals,  including  Alexander  II.,  are  buried  in  this 
abbey.  The  heart  of  Bruce  lies  beneath  a  broken  stone.  Doug 
las  tried  unsuccessfully  to  bear  it  to  the  Holy  Land.  It  reposes 
in  more  congenial  soil.  Around  it  the  grass  and  alders  grow, 

" 


414  CROSSING   THE  BOEDER, 

and  plentiful  hangings  of  ivy  climb.  Around  it  there  repose,  in 
the  graveyard,  generation  after  generation  of  those  who  have 
named  the  name  of  Bruce  with  thrilling  pride ;  and  nearer, 
within  the  abbey,  lie  numerous  abbots  and  monks  who  once 
ruled,  and,  if  tradition  be  true,  revelled  right  jollily,  in  these 
sacred  walls.  We  walked  about  the  ruins  over  the  mounds — 
a  silent  company.  We  felt,  in  truth,  that  "  never,  was  scene  so 
sad,  so  fair."  Scott  has  breathed  the  immortality  of  his  poetry 
upon  the  scene,  and  has  given  it  added  interest  by  weaving  the 
"  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel"  around  it.  •  Could  we  do  better, 
after  seeing  Melrose,  than  to  visit  the  home  of  him,  whose  pen 
had  imparted  so  much  interest  to  the  old  abbey,  and  indeed  to 
almost  every  spot  which  we  have  visited  in  Scotland  ? 

I  wish  that  I  could  forget  one  thing  about  Abbotsford.  and 
only  remember  what  we  saw,  and  not  what  we  heard.  From 
Melrose  we  drove  through  hedged  lanes  and  turnpike  gates, 
until  we  reached  the  portal  of  Abbotsford.  -  We  met  there  a 
party  of  Americans  who  had  been  waiting  some  time  for  entrance. 
Under  their  direction,  and  being  advised  that  it  was  proper,  we 
took  a  path  leading  down  to  the  stream,  and  enjoyed  the  view 
of  the  houses,  which,  taken  together,  and  with  as  much  unity  as 
they  o£ji  muster,  constitute  Sir  Walter's  seat.  They  have  no 
particular  style  or  comeliness  ;  but  they  have  a  fine  prospect  of 
water  and  hill,  mead  and  wood.  A  grassy  lawn  spreads  its 
green  carpet  between  the  stream  and  house.  Additions  are 
being  built,  which  cannot  adorn  the  house  more,  nor  add  a  single 
leaf  to  its  volume  of  associations. 

We  returned  to  the  portal  just  in  time  to  see  a  queer  old 
,  English  housewife  dancing  along,  with  a  crowd  after  her,  and 
scolding  with  a  virago's  tongue.  She  unlocked  the  gate.  Now 
came  our  turn :  "  So,  so !  you're  the  party  that  have  been 
wandering  over  the  grounds,  where  you've  no  business — none  at 
all !"  I  did  not  like  to  spoil  our  visit,  so  kept  my  teeth  clench 
ed,  and  my  tongue  in  prison ;  and  we  all  marched  in  like 
whipped  and  naughty  children,  smothering  revenge  enough  to 


AND    THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  415 

have  cannibalized  the  old  Xaiitippe,  and  sauce  enough 'for  the 
meal.  With  a  consequential,  snappish  air,  and  a  lachrymose 
sniffle,  (rare  combination  !)  she  led  us  into  a  hall,  or  armory, 
where,  amidst  the  tasteful  arrangement  of  guns,  pistols  and 
swords,  many  of  them  once  carried  by  kings  and  Highland 
chieftains  (including  Rob  Roy),  were  hung,  as  primary  in 
interest,  the  iron  keys  of  the  Tolbooth,  which  the  reader  of  the 
Heart  of  Mid-Lothian  need  not  be  reminded,  once  turned  the 
lock  on  deluded  Effie  Deans.  A  glass  case  contained  the  last 
suit  of  clothes  worn  by  Sir  Walter.  Presents  from  Byron, 
among  which  was  a  silver  urn  of  rare  workmanship,  containing 
some  human  bones  from  Athens,  were  distributed  around  among 
the  canes,  hatchets  and  other  instruments  which  the  novelist 
had  used.  We  were  ushered  into  his  study  ;  saw  the  old  arm 
chair  in  which  he  received  the  airy  servitors  of  his  brain ;  his 
books  and  furniture,  all  just  as  they  were  when  he  died.  A 
good-natured  Louisianian  asked  if  he  might  sit  in  the  chair. 

'  No,  sir — noh  !  never  have  heard  such  presumption  before — 
never  !' 

1  Oh  !  but  it  couldn't  hurt  it,  and  it  would  be  quite  a  pleas 
ure  to  remember.' 

The  old  lady  flushed,  while  she  replied :  '  I  don't  admire 
such  taste  as  yours,  sir.  We  hold  that  chair  too  sacr*ed  for  any 
one  to  sit  in.  This  way,  sir.  Oblige  me  by  not  delaying,  you 
— Miss  !  If  I  allowed  every  body  to  sit  in  it,  it  would  soon  be 
dirty  and  ragged.  Pass  on,  sir.' 

And  so,  with  tantalizing  haste  and  unwomanly  pertness,  she 
posted  us  from  room  to  room,  until  all  the  sanctity  of  the  place 
began  to  ooze  out  in  vexation,  whicji  finally  found  relief  in  the 
humorous.  Would  not  Sir  Walter  himself  chuckle  to  see  such 
a  specimen  showing  off  his  mementoes  ? 

The  library  gave  us  most  satisfaction.  The  portraits  of  the 
family  hung  around.  Sir  Walter's  picture  did  not  impress  me 
so  peculiarly  as  the  statue  in  Edinburgh,  in  the  Gothic  monu 
ment.  Neither  has  it  the  intellectual  vigor  which  speaks  from 


416  MOUSING   THE  BORDER, 

the  maVble  bust  by  Chantrey,  which  is  in  the  library.  A  bay- 
window  and  recess  hung  with  crimson  damask,  occupied  the  side 
of  the  room  next  to  the  stream.  The  window  opened  to  one  of 
the  finest  views  of  nature  that  ever  inspired  an  author.  Before 
the  fire-place  a  dog  was  quietly  snugged  in  the  deep  wool  of  the 
rug,  which  gave  a  peculiarly  Scott-air  to  the  chamber.  Sir 
Walter  was  always  accompanied  by  his  dog,  and  is  eo  repre 
sented  in  his  portraits.  His  famous  dog  cut  in  stone  stands 
before  the  outer  door,  under  the  shadow  of  the  stag-antlers. 

We  would  not  dwell  too  much  upon  the  minute  ;  but  such 
an  arrangement  as  we  saw  at  Abbotsford  is  worth  a  study.  It 
indicates  a  chaste  and  superlative  refinement,  and  connects  the 
idea  of  literary  ease  with  worldly  comfort  so  deliciously,  that 
we  would  fain  have  lingered,  but  for :  '  The  door's  open,  sir ; 
don't  you  see  ?'  from  Mrs.  Xantippe.  Taking  one  glance  at  the 
portrait  of  Lockhart,  another  at  the  odd  sketches,  illustrating 
Sir  Walter's  characters,  which  hung  on  the  wall,  and  still  an 
other,  despite  Mrs.  Xantippe,  at  a  sketch  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
dancing  in  full  costume,  frills,  ruffs,  high  head-dress  (all  in  ad 
mirable  caricature),  which  was  a  pet  of  Sir  Walter's,  and  is  an. 
unique  and  striking  crotchet  from  the  brain  of  Art,  I  left  the 
library  to  enter  into  another  room,  in  which  time  only  was 
allowed  to  see  Napoleon's  pistols,  which  I  wickedly  wished  might 
spontaneously  go  off  at  Mrs.  Xantippe. 

One  of  the  party  ventured  to  inquire  something  about  the 
family  who  reside  at  Abbotsford  (a  gentleman  who  married  his 
granddaughter— I  forget  his  name— lives  there),  when  our 
splenetic  madam  put  a  clapper  on  his  interrogation  by  saying: 
1  It's  not  very  polite,  sir,  to  ask  such  questions  when  the  people 
are  in  the  house.  They  might  hear  you.  I  wish  nothing  ot 
the  kind  mentioned.  There's  the  court :  a  sixpence  each.  Come  ! 
no  loitering  !' 

And  thus  we  passed  by  the  rare  collection  of  curiosities 
which  the  antiquary  had  gathered.  A  glance  at  the  shield 
spoken  of  in  Waverley  ;  a  stride  past  the  writing-desk  presented 


AND   THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  417 

by  George  IV.  ;  a  retina  confused,  and  a  tympanum  fretted 
with  the  petulance  of  the  guide  ;  a  few  maledictions  on  the 
shameful  and  disgusting  manner  in  which  so  much  that  could 
inspire  respect  for  the  memory  of  the  wonderful  '  Wizard  of  the 
North '  is  displayed ;  and  we  are  en  route  for  a  more  delightful 
and  a  holier  spot — the  burial-place  of  the  great  bard  and  novel 
ist  at  Dryburgh  Abbey. 

Ettrick  and  Yarrow,  made  known  far  and  wide  as  the 
English  tongue  travels,  by  the  songs  of  Hogg  and  the  sonnets 
of  Wordsworth,  lie  contiguous  with  their  wild  hills,  and  are 
plainly  seen  from  Abbotsford.  Before  we  reach  Dryburgh,  the 
Tweed,  which  is  here  a  trout  stream,  swift  and  clear,  must  be 
crossed.  As  we  rowed  over,  we  observed  an  odd  anchor  in  the 
midst  of  the  stream,  staying  by  its  human  grip  a  skiff,  in  which 
a  nobleman  who  owned  the  fishery  was  standing,  swishing  his 
pole  and  letting  out  his  gossamer  line  after  the  most  approved 
custom  of  Izaak  Walton,  and  totally  unconscious  of  the  shiver 
ing  servant,  nearly  up  to  his  arms  in  the  cold  water,  who  moved 
the  boat  at  the  pleasure  of  his  lord.  But  did  not  that  servant 
watch  anxiously  for  glorious  nibbles  or  sundown  ? 

The  abbey  at  Dryburgh  is  hid  in  a  wood,  and  is  approached 
through  an  orchard.  It  is  very  ancient,  having  been  founded 
during  the  reign  of  David  I.,  by  the  Lord  of  Lauderdale.  The 
spot  was  once  a  worship-grove  of  the  Druids.  Lying  near  the 
border,  it  has  been  subject  to  the  harshest  vicissitudes  of  border 
war.  Its  ruins  are  very  extensive.  It  has  one  charm  which 
no  other  ruin  possesses :  a  large  star-window  perfectly  pre 
served,  high  up  in  a  wall  which  is  entirely  clad  in  ivy,  and 
leaving  only  this  gem  of  stone  and  sky,  like  a  sapphire  brooch, 
clasping  the  glistening  drapery  of  green  investing  the  ruin,  all 
too  beautiful  for  the  corrosion  of  Time. 

On  the  twenty-sixth  of  September,  1832,  a  solemn  proces 
sion  moved  over  this  eminently  beautiful  spot,  and  under  these 
verdurous  arches,  bearing  the  remains  of  'the  greatest  of  the 
name  which  appears  so  frequently  upon  the  grave-stones  of  the 


418  CROSSING   THE  BORDER, 

abbey.  Mourning  no  common  loss,  they  heavily  carry  the  bier 
down  the  grassy  aisle  of  St.  Mary  ;  and  soon,  with  holy  rite 
and  sad  hearts,  the  body  of  WALTER  SCOTT  is  committed  to  the 
earth  to  mingle  with  the  common  mould,  surrounded  by  his 
ancestry  and  the  ancient  proprietors  of  the  abbey.  But  Mar- 
mion,  Waverley,  Ivanhoe  and  Old  Mortality  were  not  interred 
in  Dryburgh  upon  that  day.  They  form  a  part  of  the  deathless 
spirit  and  creative  mind  of  him  who  shed  at  once  so  much  lustre 
upon  his  country's  legends  and  history,  and  so  much  benignity 
upon  mankind.  We  gathered  a  twig  of  ivy  near  his  tomb,  and 
added  one  more  link  to  the  chain  of  kindred  thoughts,  which 
already  contains  the  resting-places  of  Shelley,  Keats,  Virgil,  and 
the  kings  and  princes  of  song  who  rule  from  the  urns  of  West 
minster  Abbey. 

The  ruins  of  Dryburgh  are  fast  decaying.  But  the  granite 
slab  which  covers  the  remains  of  Sir  Walter  looks  fresh  and 
new.  On  either  side  are  his  wife  and  only  son,  and  the  tombs 
of  all  three  are  inclosed  in  an  iron  railing.  They  are  ivy-clad, 
and  deeply  embowered  in  a  shade  which  is  worthy  of  its  Druid- 
ical  dedication  in  the  olden  time. 

Dryburgh  was  the  refuge  of  Edward  II.,  after  his  unsuccess 
ful  invasion  of  Scotland.  The  vault  once  haunted  by  the 
familiar  spirit  known  as  Fatlips,  that  attended  the  female  wan 
derer  who  once  sought  refuge  here,  is  still  shown.  She  had 
made  a  vow  that  she  never  would  see  the  light  of  day  until  her 
lover  returned.  She  only  left  her  vault  by  night  to  procure  the 
means  of  subsistence.  A  statue  of  Wallace  occupies  a  prominent 
spot  in  the  wood  above  the  abbey.  As  we  cross  the  stream 
again,  the  fine  monument  on  the  battle-field  of  Penuelheugh 
appears,  whichj  like  the  triple-topped  mountain  cleft  by  the 
wizard  Michael  Scott,  follows  us  far  toward  Kelso.  Our  ride 
down  sweet  Teviotdale  during  the  setting  of  the  sun  (and  a  lus 
trous  setting  it  was,  gorgeous  in  cloud-gold  !)  was  by  many 
ancient  seats  of  power  and  pleasure,  and  over  many  spots  rich 
in  legendary  lore  and  historic  interest.  The  meagre  remnant 


AND   THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  419 

of  Roxburgh  castle,  upon  a  commanding  hill  near  the  road, 
overlooked  the  romantic  river.  A  holly  tree  near,  still  marks 
the  spot  where  James  II.  was  killed,  while  besieging  the  castle. 
The  Duke  of  Roxburgh  resides  in  the  splendid  palace  of  Fleurs. 
a  stately  specimen  of  the  Tudor  style,  which  rises  from  a  sloping 
lawn  that  runs  up  from  the  opposite  bank  of  the  stream,  not  far 
from  where  the  Teviot  mingles  with  the  Tweed. 

Castles  and  abbeys  become  common  before  we  reach  Ber 
wick,  and  even  after  we  leave  it  for  Newcastle,  upon  the  '  coaly 
Tyne.'  Between  Newcastle  and  Thirsk,  amid  the  country  of 
coal-pits,  an  apparition  strange,  yet  beautiful,  appeared  upon  a 
distant  hill.  It  was  a  Grecian  temple,  not  far  from  Aycliffe. 
How  finely  its  rounded  columns  and  proportionate  entablature 
rested  against  the  sky  !  An  extended  ride  still  kept  its  classic 
elegance  in  view ;  and  it  will  be  a  long,  long  time  before  the 
vision  of  that  temple  will  fade  from  our  memory  of  northern 
England.  That  temple  in  the  smoky  landscape  became  a  re 
minder  of  the  classic  lands.  It  was  like — what  was  it  like  ?  A 
jewel  in  an  Ethiop's  ear ;  an  hexameter  from  Virgil  in  the  dry 
black-letter  of  an  old  law  tome. 

We  have  unavoidably  omitted  much  of  the  descriptive  be 
longing  to  the  valley  of  the  Tweed,  which  cultivated  hills  and 
dimpled  lawns,  great  bridges  and  time-gnarled  forests,  combine 
to  diversify  and  grace.  The  railroad  hurries  us  to  Ripon, 
through  a  country  where  monuments  to  England's  material 
greatness  arise  in  the  form  of  tall  chimneys,  and  locomotives 
dash,  with  a  white  scarf  floating  behind,  almost  at  every  point 
of  the  compass.  We  frequently  counted  six  or  eight  playing 
over  the  land  at  once.  What  will  not  iron  and  coal  do  for 
a  little  island1?  Our  object  in  coming  to  Ripon  was  to  see 
the  most  extensive  abbey-ruin  in  Great  Britain.  It  is  upon 
the  property  of  Earl  Grey,  and  accessible  to  strangers.  It  is 
like  those  I  have  described,  but  with  a  difference.  It  is  ap 
proached  through  an  extensive  park,  in  which  profuse  art  has 
adorned  nature,  by  changing  her  trees  into  vaulted  aisles,  her 


420  CROSSING   THE  BORDER, 

waters  into  swan-peopled  lakes,  and  her  lawns  into  spreads  of 
loveliest  verdure.  Statues  are  seen  ranged  through  vistas. 
Laurel  banks,  neatly  trimmed,  line  the  paths.  Water-falls 
murmur  in  the  quiet  air.  Soon  the  extensive  ruins  are  seen,  of 
course  ivy-garlanded,  with  towers  of  immense  size  and  altitude, 
and  arches  under  ground,  between  which  the  stream  sullenly 
complains.  Dungeons  with  iron  fastenings  are  visible,  not  far 
from  the  long  range  of  cloisters  where  the  monks  studied  and 
walked.  It  requires  no  heavy  draft  on  the  imagination,  to 
ovoke  from  the  tombs  over  which  we  tread,  the  forms  of  those 
monkish  clerks  and  copyists,  whose  enthusiastic  zeal  led  to  such 
manual  dexterity,  that  the  art  of  printing  has  not  been  able, 
with  all  its  refinement,  to  excel  their  manuscripts.  The  ancient 
Bibles  which  were  shown  to  us  in  Rome,  and  the  snowy  vellum 
missals  in  the  British  Museum,  illustrated  with  gold,  blue,  and 
carmine,  with  their  shining  black  letters, — each  one  able  to  bear 
a  microscopic  scrutiny, — speak  of  a  quietude  -and  seriousness 
which  must  have  reigned  in  these  walls  where  so  much  study 
and  care  were  given.  The  forms  of  the  Venerable  Bede,  of 
Friar  Bacon,  Theodore  of  Canterbury,  and  others  who  loved  to 
reproduce  and  pore  over  the  select  and  precious  gems  of  the 
monkish  library,  rise  with  solemn  air,  and  read  us  lessons  of 
patience  and  perseverance  which  our  age.  with  its  acquisitiveness 
and  hurry  cannot  teach. 

Why  is  it  that  all  religions  have  had  a  system  of  asceti 
cism  ?  Is  it  consistent  with  the  ordination  of  God,  that  His 
ministers  should  be  set  apart  from  the  world,  which  they  ought 
to  teach?  Yet.  Mahometanism  had,  and  has  even  yet,  its 
Soofies  and  Dervishes,  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Ganges ; 
the  Jews  had  their  Essenes,  who  lived  in  the  desert  and  held 
their  property  in  common,  and  their  Therapeuts,  who  sought 
happiness  in  solitary  contemplation  of  the  Divine  essence ;  the 
religions  of  the  East,  Boodhisrn  and  Braminism,  have  had  their 
monastic  orders,  their  Yooges  and  Fakirs  ;  the  Pythagoreans  in 
Greece,  imitating  the  sects  of  Egypt,  from  which  they  learned 


AND  THE  OLD  ABBEYS.  421 

their  mysteries,. dwelt  apart  from  the  haunts  of  men  ;  and  Catho 
licism  has  had  its  monasticism,  under  various  names  and  forms, 
Anchorets,  Cenobites,  Benedictines,  Carthusians,  Cistercians, 
Mendicants  ;  and  these  had  tteir  subdivisions.  It  must  be  con 
fessed  that  much  good  has  emanated  from  these  recluses.  Giant 
minds  have  been  nursed  in  the  solitary  cell.  Civilization  in  its 
intellectual  and  industrious  phases,  received  advancement  from 
these  holy  orders ;  and  even  yet,  if  there  be  a  spot  where  the 
light  cannot  be  kept  burning  in  the  fitful  gusts  of  human  pas 
sion  and  ignorance,  these  sequestered  homes  of  thought  and 
piety  might  be  of  service.  But  in  this  century,  when  light  has 
gone  forth  among  the  nations,  no  one  can  praise  a  fugitive  and 
cloistered  virtue,  that  shuns  the  dust  and  heat  of  active  life. 

Other  parts  of  Fountain  Abbey  bear  evidence  of  other  em 
ployments  besides  the  intellectual  and  devotional.  The  great 
chimneys  and  fireplaces,  yet  showing  marks  of  the  culinary  calo 
ric,  are  to  be  seen  ;  while  near  by,  upon  a  portal  stone,  are  carved 
the  arms  of  the  abbey,  which  are  three  horseshoes — emblems  of 
good  luck,  and  talismanic  to  keep  the  witches  away.  The  nave 
and  transept  were  very  extensive,  and  finely  preserved.  But 
every  where  the  hand  of  sacrilegious  decay  is  at  work,  despoil 
ing  window  and  niche  of  figure  and  strength  ;  while  time  has 
sown  his  grass-seed  gently  over  the  tessellated  floor,  which  now 
yields  to  the  traveller's  tread,  as  he  passes  through  this  great 
home  of  the  monkish  multitude,  and  in  fancy  re-peoples  it  with 
singing  choir  and  praying  priests,  all  ruled  by  the  baronial  abbot 
and  his  men-at-arms. 

By  Knaresborough,  and  the  Dropping  Well,  we  seek  this 
capital  of  Yorkshire,  and  have  spent  our  Sabbath  in  enjoying 
its  repose  and  pencilling  our  journeyings.  We  are  ready  once 
more  to  gather  our  robes  about  us,  and  trudge  on  to  other 
scenes.  But  the  three  abbeys,  and  Abbotsford,  must  ever  be 
our  landmarks  by  which  to  tell  the  high  tide  of  our  pleasure 
and  our  progress  through  the  Borders. 

What  is  the  influence  which  remains,  now  that  our  eyes  have 


422  CROSSING  THE  BORDER. 

feasted  upon  ruin  and  landscape,  and  our  minds  have  recalled 
the  associations  with  which  they  are  fraught  ?  Now  that  the 
pleasure-loving  and  curious  propensity  has  been  gratified,  what 
permanent  good  has  been  ingrafted  upon  the  immortal  soul, 
by  thus  moving  amid  the  beauties  of  nature  and  of  art,  under 
the  twilight  of  antiquity  ?  Are  these  objects  but  the  chance 
scribblings  and  frolicksome  creations  of  the  dead  past,  meaning 
less  and  indifferent  in  this  present  time  ?  Is  there  no  lesson  of 
beauty  to  be  learned  from  a  perception  and  a  study  of  these 
Gothic  piles,  in  the  witchery  of  their  ruins  ?  Comes  there  no 
admonition  to  patience  and  devotion,  as  we  recall  from  their 
graves  the  form  of  monk  and  friar,  and  think  how,  day  after 
day,  and  night  after  night,  they  fought  within  the  cloister  the 
logomachies  of  Aristotle,  under  the  command  of  Scotus  or 
Aquinas  ?  Oh,  yes  !  Here,  in  these  homes  of  the  studious 
and  learned,  there  burned  altars  to  truth  and  goodness,  although 
their  fires  were  dim  and  sepulchral.  When  all  else  was  ignor 
ance  profound,  with  vestal  vigilance  the  light  was  kept  bright, 
until  it  burst  into  the  full  radiance  of  a  better  civilization.  When 
baronial  insolence  ruled  its  serfs  with  iron  sway,  and  ran  riot  in 
the  worst  passions  of  our  sinful  nature,  there  was  found  in  these 
abbeys  a  refuge,  where  peace  and  good-will  hedged  the  innocent 
round  about  with  protection,  and  where  the  religion  of  Jesus 
kindled  its  hope  of  celestial  beatitude,  high  and  aloof  from  the 
troubles  and  turmoils  of  the  world. 


XXXVII. 

1Dnshantot[;  rmft  tjp  33nmttf  nf  (Cjiatsninrtjj. 

"  Each  one  contends,  with  all  her  might  and  main, 
Each  day  a  higher  verdant  crown  to  gain." 

Cow  LEY'S  Poem  on  Plants. 

THIS  northern  part  of  England,  around  York,  is  checkered 
with  railroads  so  completely,  that  it  is  impossible  to  look 
out  upon  the  landscape  without  seeing  the  swift-rushing  car. 
From  Newburg  to  Sheffield,  at  all  angles, — obtuse,  acute,  and 
right, — these  vehicles  are  every  moment  darting,  freighted  with 
coal  and  coke,  iron  and  humanity.  The  country  after  night 
seems  alive  with  fires  from  furnaces  and  coke-ovens ;  while  by 
day,  deep,  dark  holes,  '  into  which  the  mild  sunbeam  hath  not 
power  to  pierce,'  and  into  which  only  the  lightning  could  dart 
illumination,  open  on  every  side  like  entrances  to  Hades,  out  of 
which  machinery  is  shelling  coal  by  the  ton.  And  yet  here,  as 
in  every  arable  part  of  Great  Britain  that  we  have  seen,  Agri 
culture  seems  to  gather  as  rich  a  harvest,  and  to  take  as  nice  a 
heed  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  as  in  other  less  manufacturing 
districts.  Tbe  harvest-time  was  just  at  its  middle  point.  Two 
months  later  than  in  Ohio,  they  gather  their  wheat.  It  is  mostly 
done  by  Irish,  who  come  up  from  Liverpool,  and  even  across 
the  Channel,  thus  to  reap  their  little  harvest  of  shillings.  We 
saw  them  at  York,  these  laborers,  packed  by  twenties  and  fifties, 
into  unventilated  cars  (used  for  cattle  on  ordinary  occasions), 
all  somewhat  intoxicated,  all  armed  with  scythe  and  sickle,  but 
so  closely  packed,  that  in  the  biggest  hullabaloo  imaginable,  they 
could  hardly  use  their  '  gougers,'  much  less  their  instruments  of 


424  ENGLISH  HUSBANDRY, 

husbandry.  One  poor  fellow  was,  by  some  fatality,  placed  in 
our  car.  He  had  his  bundle,  his  sickle,  and  the  never-failing 
resource  of  an  Irishman,  his  pipe.  He  told  me  that  he  received 
from  eight  to  ten  shillings  an  acre,  and  "  that  it  took  him  four 
days  to  cut  an  acre,  and  right  heavy  crops  they  were  too."  When 
assured  that  an  American  swung  a  cradle  to  the  tune  of  five 
acres  a  day,  he  took  a  long  whiff,  and  opened  his  eyes,  while  his 
mouth,  too,  opened  to  exclaim  in  consternation,  "  that  he  would 
like  to  see  one  of  them — (is  it  creedles  ye  call  thim?)  at  work." 
He  thought  that  if  a  company  of  Americans  should  come  over 
here,  with  their  "  creedles,"  that  they  would  make  a  good  har 
vest  of  shillings,  a't  ten  per  acre.  In  very  deed,  it  would  pay 
almost  as  well  as  working  in  a  Sacramento  digging.  Ten  dollars 
a  day  and  found ;  what  do  our  farmers  think  of  that  ?  They 
would  not,  however,  wonder  at  it,  if  they  could  go  into  an  Eng 
lish  harvest-field,  and  observe  the  women  and  men  lazily  gather 
ing  the  straws  and  cutting  them  by  handfulls  !  Why,  an  ox 
with  any  thing  like  a  tongue  could  clip  a  field  about  as  soon  as 
one  of  these  sickles.  No  wonder  McCormick's  reaper  created 
such  delightful  surprise  among  farmers  here,  where  even  the 
cradle  was  unknown.  No  wonder  that  he  has  made  an  arrange 
ment,  by  which  $25,000  for  the  first  year  is  guarantied  to  him 
for  the  privilege  of  selling  five  hundred  of  his  reapers,  with  a 
proportionate  increase  on  an  increased  number  sold.  No  won 
der  the  London  Times  claimed  the  Reaper  as  an  equivalent  to 
Protection. 

But  one  thing  must  be  said  in  commendation  of  the  English 
farming.  There  is  a  completeness  and  cleanliness  in  the  way  a 
field  is  attended  to,  whether  pasture,  woodland  or  wheat  field,  that 
leaves  nothing  to  be  done.  Ruth  would  have  found  scanty 
gleanings  in  the  wake  of  an  English  husbandman.  So  with  re 
gard  to  the  hay-stack  and  the  straw-stack.  They  are  all  laid 
up  with  the  precision  of  architecture,  and  nicely  thatched.  Not 
a  straw  is  out  of  place.  The  wheat  is  stacked  upon  frames  some 
feet  above  the  ground,  so  as  to  preserve  the  grain  from  mice 


AND  THE  BEAUTY  OF  C&AT8WO&TH.  425 

Nothing  is  wasted.  The  manure  is  cared  for  as  sedulously  as  if 
it  were  wheat.  Yet  with  all  this  nicety  and  completeness  of 
cultivation,  Ohio  flour  can  be  seen,  (I  can  tell  its  brand  as  the 
face  of  an  old  friend),  at  any  hour,  unloading  at  Liverpool,  swing 
ing  upward  to  its  high-storied  wareroom.  or  being  waggoned 
through  the  streets  for  the  depot,  there  to  be  distributed  among 
these  very  districts  where  the  fields  are  heavy  with  a  better 
than  placer  gold. 

An  English  farmer  generally  rents  of  the  landed  proprietor. 
The  latter  is  called  a  gentleman  in  England,  the  farmer  is  not. 
Gentility  is  here  dependent  on  the  relation  of  the  person  to  the 
Earth,  whether  it  be  as  freeholder,  or  leaseholder.  These  proprie 
tors  number  only  thirty  thousand  in  all  England.  The  rent 
paid  is  from  five  to  ten  dollars  per  acre,  according  to  the  quality 
of  the  soil.  In  addition,  there  is  the  tithe  and  poor-rate.  The 
farmer  is  not  allowed  to  cultivate  in  wheat  each  year,  more  than 
a  third  or  a  quarter  of  the  land  rented  ;  because  the  soil  must 
be  kept  up  ;  and  to  this  end,  there  must  be  a  rotation  of  crops. 
The  first  crop  taken  after  the  ground  is  manured,  consists  of  some 
root,  as  the  beet  or  turnip ;  and  is  called  the  hoed  crop.  After 
this,  comes  barley,  oats,  and  beans  ;  and  then  the  wheat.  Al 
most  every  thing  raised  is  fed  to  stock  (of  which  a  farm  is  rarely 
without),  except  the  wheat  and  barley.  In  the  case  of  a  graz 
ing  farm,  this  rotation  would  not  apply.  When  a  part  of  it  is 
sown  in  grass,  it  is  suffered  to  remain  in  pasture  for  three  years, 
more  or  less,  which  supersedes  artificial  manuring.  Our  farmers 
cannot  realize,  without  an  inspection  of  English  farming,  the 
immense  outlay  of  expenditure,  and  the  capital  required  to  carry 
on  a  farm  here.  The  manures  are  the  largest  item.  They  are 
mostly  manufactured  near  London.  Bone  dust  is  a  principal 
article.  It  is  nothing  unusual  to  put  upon  one  acre  twenty-five 
dollars  worth  of  manure.  The  amount  of  capital  actually  re 
quired  to  carry  on  a  farm  cannot  fall  short  of  fifty  dollars  an 
acre,  by  which  I  mean  the  expense  of  stock,  implements,  manure, 
and  labor  required  to  keep  the  land  in  good  cultivable  con- 


426  ENGLISH  HUSBANDRY, 

dition.  A  farmer  with  one  thousand  acres,  must  be  worth  fifty 
thousand  dollars,  in  order  to  carry  on  his  farm  as  it  is  here  car 
ried  on. 

Whatever  may  be  the  expense  attending  agriculture  in  Eng 
land  compared  to  America,  there  is  one  regard  in  which  Eng 
land  may  claim  the  palm  of  excellence.  It  is  in  the  tasteful  and 
even  elegant  mode  in  which  the  fields,  parks,  and  gardens  are 
arranged  and  displayed.  God  never  intended  that  man  should 
for  ever  sweat  over  the  furrow  and  in  the  harvest  field,  to  obtain 
his  daily  bread.  By  creating  the  beauty  of  flowers  which  ena 
mel  the  meads,  the  trees  which  waver  in  the  wind  and  give 
oharm  to  the  landscape,  the  waters  which  plash  in  fountains  and 
circle  in  eddies,  the  varieties  of  hill  and  dale,  rocky  eminences 
and  green  lawns  ;  by  bending  over  all  this  regalia  of  Nature, 
His  Empyrean  of  azure,  does  He  not  teach,  that  there  is  an  in 
ner  spirit  which  is  not  gratified,  and  cannot  be  satisfied  merely 
with  utilities;  but  which  looks  out  inquiringly  through  the 
senses,  for  the  objects  of  admiration  and  love  ?  Life  would  be 
an  uneasy  and  desperate  thraldom,  unless  Beauty  enfranchised 
its  activities,  and  led  it  along  its  own  '  primrose  path  of  dalli 
ance.' 

How  little  do  we  in  America,  especially  in  Ohio,  think  of 
these  sentiments  practically  !  How  rarely  do  we  find  around  our 
log-cabins  and  country  residences  any  thing  to  attract,  except 
its  genial  hospitality  !  Yet  how  much  does  prodigal  nature  lay 
at  the  feet  of  our  people,  which,  with  little  pruning  and  care, 
would  displace  the  few  flag-stones,  the  wood-pile,  the  mud-pud 
dle  and  cow-resort  before  the  threshold,  and  array  our  residences 
in  fragrant  vines,  surround  them  with  trees  and  flowers  native  to 
our  woods,  and  make  home  sweeter  and  dearer  by  these  minis 
trations  to  Beauty  !  Would  the  young  man  just  out  of  his  teens 
be  looking  after  a  quarter  section  in  Illinois  and  Iowa,  if  the 
roof-tree  of  home  thus  blossomed  ?  In  England  it  is  otherwise. 
Time  hath  here  left  legacy  after  legacy  of  garniture  to  each  cot 


AND   THE  BEAUTY  OF  CHATSWORTH.  437 

tage  and  hall.  Her  people  prize  the  boon,  and  transmit  to  pos 
terity  the  landscape,  with  new  features  of  loveliness. 

The  highest  refinement  of  rural  beauty  in  England,  and  even, 
it  was  said,  in  the  world,  was  to  be  found  at  Chatsworth,  the 
prime  country-seat,  among  seven  others,  .belonging  to  the  Duke 
of  Devonshire.  To  have  left  England  without  having  seen 
Chatsworth,  would  have  argued  us  insensible  to  the  voice  of  un 
disputed  rumor,  which  located  the  modern  Paradise  over,  the 
moors  beyond  Sheffield,  whither  upon  yesterday  we  were  bound. 
It  was  our  last  sight  in  the  Old  World,  and  anticipation  made 
it  the  culminating  point  of  our  voyaging.  The  reputation  of 
the  Duke's  manager,  who  is  none  other  than  Paxton,  the  de 
signer  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  added  a  zest  to  anticipation  :  while 
the  leisure  of  a  complete  day  was  dedicated  to  its  fruition. 

Sheffield  has  little  to  attract.  Its  smoky  factories  almost 
darkened  our  hopefulness  as  we  drove  down  its  streets.  But  in 
the  beautiful  environs  we  found  compensation  for  the  coaly 
effluence.  Chatsworth  was  17  miles  from  Sheffield,  and  the 
luxury  of  an  open  carriage  enabled  us  to  enjoy  the  intervening 
scenes.  We  drove  by  the  residence  of  the  cutlers,  among  which 
was  that  of  Rogers,  the  King  Cutler,  whose  steel  is  as  famous 
as  that  of  Damascus.  In  the  valley  were  distributed  different 
manufactories  for  cutlery,  which,  before  fit  for  the  market,  un 
dergoes  various  processes  in  different  establishments,  from  the 
smelting  of  the  metal  up  to  its  grinding,  tempering,  and  pol 
ishing. 

As  we  approached  Chatsworth,  the  view  became  enchanting. 
The  moors  appeared  in  the  hazy  distance  covered  and  colored 
with  the  purple  heather,  or  ling,  as  it  is  called  in  England, 
which  gives  the  aspect  of  a  blooming  garden  to  these  wastes. 
We  had  not  expected  to  see  such  extensive  wastes  near  the 
great  marts  of  Sheffield  and  Manchester,  in  a  county  more 
densely  populated  than  any  other  part  of  the  island.  But  so  it 
was.  Why  ?  The  Duke  of  Rutland  owned  the  range  for  hunt 
ing.  The  Duke  of  Devonshire  yonder  heath  for  the  same. 


428  ENGLISH  HUSBANDRY, 

Grouse  hide  under  the  ferns,  and  feed  upon  the  blossom  of  the 
heather.  The  land  is  let  by  the  thousand  acres,  at  $250  for 
that  area  for  hunting,  besides  which  the  lessee  has  a  large  outlay 
for  preserving  the  game.  We  saw  lazy  fellows  sitting  near  the 
bars  preserving  the  game  from  the  poachers,  and  we  .saw,  too, 
1  chaps'  with  their  phaeton  in  the  road,  innocently  looking  over 
the  walls,  while  a  man  with  setters  was  starting  up  the  game, 
which  the  '  chap'  from  the  road  would  as  innocently  fire  at  as  it 
rose.  This  is  what  is  called,  taking  it  '  on  the  sly.'  Grouse 
were  rising  on  all  sides.  Huntsmen  were  on  the  distant  hills. 
The  smoke  and  flash  were  visible — otherwise  all  was  'desolate. 
Bleak  rocks,  scattered  about  like  those  at  Vesuvius,  but  unlike 
them  adorned  with  ferns  and  ling,  are  upon  the  summit  of  the 
moor,  which  looks  over  a  vast  range  of  country,  taking  in 
Chatsworth,  with  its  palace  and  park,  where  we  soon  arrived. 

We  went  first  to  the  kitchen  gardens,  and  found  ingress. 
Long  ranges  of  walls  and  hot-houses,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  met  our  view,  with  neat  grass  and  flower-plots  between. 
A  machine  was  at  work,  used  by  the  hand,  which  clipped  the 
grass  while  it  rolled  it  smoothly  and  carried  the  clippings  along. 
I  wondered  no  more  at  the  velvet  elegance  of  the  English  lawn. 
On  the  larger  lawns,  we  saw  larger  machines  drawn  by  horses, 
which  performed  the  same  function.  We  entered  the  principal 
hot-house,  where  tropical  plants  flowered  in  every  hue  of  the 
chromatic  scale,  and  in  every  form  which  an  Infinite  Creator 
moulds.  The  Paxonian  hung  its  rich  pink  pendants  beside  the 
large  straw-colored  alamander  which  crept  upon  the  ceiling,  over 
beds  of  exotics  perfumed  to  a  sense  of  faintness.  In  another 
green-house,  water-lilies  alone  were  kept  in  a  mimic  lake,  which 
was  not  suffered  to  stagnate  ;  for  little  water-wheels  fretted  it 
continually.  Lilies,  did  I  say  ?  There  was  but  one  lily,  called 
the  Victoria  Regia,  from  which  twenty  large  leaves,  as  '  round 
as  my  shield,'  and  five  feet  in  diameter,  were  spread  upon  the 
surface.  These  leaves  seemed  like  green  tables,  supported,  for 
all  that  I  could  see,  by  water-nymphs.  A  large  lily  was  in 


AND  THE  BEAUTY  OF  CHATSWORTH.  429 

flower :  while  another,  ghostly  pale,  was  bursting  its  verdant 
cerements.  I  always  loved  the  lily  ;  so  pure,  so  stainless,  so 
emblematic  of  innocence.  It  is  a  quaint  myth,  which  accounts 
for  its  origin.  Jupiter,  in  order  to  make  Hercules  immortal, 
clapped  him  to  the  breast  of  Juno,  when  she  was  asleep.  The 
young  embodiment  of  Strength  drew  so  hard  that,  too  great 
a  gush  of  milk  coming  down,  some  slipped  upon  the  sky, 
which  made  the  Galaxy,  or  Milky  Way,  and  out  of  some  which 
fell  upon  the  earth,  rose  the  lily.  A  queenly  origin  hath  the 
proud  white  flower  !  The  Regia  of  Chatsworth  does  no  discredit 
to  its  celestial  lineage.  A  curious  flower,  called  the  stanopia, 
which  grows  out  below  instead  of  above  the  root,  was.  in  full 
bloom.  Tall  futia  in  red.  great  cup  and  pitcher  flowers  ;  indeed, 
every  style  of  vegetable  beauty,  in  hues  which  the  sea-shell  can 
never  rival,  warmed  into  life  in  the  heated  air. 

Without,  the  arrangement  was  simple  in  its  elegance.  Each 
class  of  flowers  had  its  own  plot.  The  kith  and  kin  all  lived 
neighborly,  and  smiled  happily  as  they  bent  to  each  other  or 
looked  up  into  the  sky.  The  walls  were  warmed  with  subterra 
nean  flues,  and  clad  with  peach  and  apricot,  flatly  trimmed  against 
them.  The  pine -apples  were  growing  under  glass,  finer  than  I 
ever  saw  them  at  home.  The  grapes,  purple  and  white,  larger 
than — no  matter  ;  it  is  too  toothsomely  luscious  to  talk  about, 
as  it  was  too  tempting  to  the  larcenously  inclined  fingers. 
What  Elia  says  of  roast  pig  (oh  !  reader,  forgive  the  savory  illu 
sion  in  this  unnatural  connection),  may  I  not  say  of  those  clus 
ters,  that  they  produced  a  premonitory  moistening — or  overflow 
ing  of  the  nether  lip,  and  the  idea  of  tasting  them  created  a  de 
light — if  not  sinful,  yet  so  like  to  sinning,  that  a  tender-con- 
wienced  person  would  do  well  to  pause.  We  paused. 

We  walk  out  again  to  hear  the  bees  hum  from  flower  to 
flower,  and  see  them  at  work  in  their  straw  hives.  Large  beds 
of  vegetables  of  the  largest  development  are  ranged  near.  This 
smacked  of  the  kitchen ;  all  else  might  well  become  seraglios 
and  palaces. 


430  ENGLISH  HUSBANDR  }', 

As  we  move  through  the  great  gate,  we  are  conducted  into 
the  palace,  which  is  a  superb  structure,  topped  with  figures  and 
urns,  and  rich  in  bass-reliefs  and  carvings.  We  pass  through 
halls  of  paintings  by  masters,  through  apartments  where  were 
the  coronation  chairs  of  England's  royalty,  through  rooms  where 
the  presents  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas  to  the  Duke  were  arranged, 
and  through  others,  where  the  greatest  collection  of  sketchings 
in  the  world  is  exhibited.  From  the  windows,  in  each  of  which 
there  is  but  one  pane,  we  have  prospects  of  the  hills  and  woods ; 
of  the  Derwent  water,  in  which  hundreds  of  Durhams  are  wading 
or  ruminating ;  of  the  Park,  where  sheep  and  deer  together  nip 
the  herbage ;  of  sheets  of  water,  glancing  under  the  sun,  re 
minding  us  of  the  water-views  down  the  leafy  avenues  of  Ver 
sailles,  and  of  fountain-jets,  playing  out  of  manifold  forms  of 
Triton  and  God.  Not  another  fabric  is  to  be  seen  on  the  pre 
mises — not  one.  Nothing,  upon  the  whole  sixteen  hundred  acres, 
appears  to  mar  the  complete  diversity  of  rural  loveliness.  There 
is  no  point  which  has  not  contributed  its  portion  to  the  manifest 
unity  of  Beauty,  which  embraces  so  much  variety  in  its  magic 
zone. 

The  hall  of  statuary  has  not  a  fragment  nor  a  blotch.  Every 
piece  is  a  gem.  The  pure  Parian  glistens  in  tasteful  array  and 
graceful  form.  A  door  opens,  and  a  conservatory,  with  elegant 
and  costly  vases,  filled  with  oranges  and  flowers,  is  presented ; 
out  of  which,  as  from  an  enchanter's  realm,  we  walk  upon  paths 
of  pulverized  spar,  shining  like  diamonds,  and  surrounded  by 
lawns  spongy  to  the  foot  and  as  neatly  trimmed  as  tapestry. 
Here  another  guide  meets  us,  and  leading  us  by  pillars  vine-clad, 
by  temples  copied  from  classic  models,  and  by  statuary,  guard 
ing  the  old  trees  under  whose  shade  they  stand,  gives  us  -a 
vantage  ground  from  which  to  see  the  glory  of  Chatsworth. 
See  ! — Far  up  in  a  woody  mountain,  from  natural  springs,  whose 
supply  is  exhaustless.  there  leaps  the  live  water-falls ;  so  high 
and  distant,  you  may  not  hear  their  music.  These  gather  to  a 
head  and  fall  over  a  temple's  dome,  from  which  they  leap,  but 


AND   THE  BEAUTY  OF  CHATS  WOE  TIL  431 

to  rebound  into  fountains,  where  they  are  bespread  in  veils  of 
fleecy  whiteness,  and  hasten  down  a  succession  of  steps,  some 
three  hundred  yards  long  and  fifteen  feet  wide.  As  we  reclined 
on  the  soft  turf,  at  the  foot  of  these  steps,  the  guide  let  on  a  full 
volume  of  water,  which  leaped,  gushed  and  sprung,  danced,  sang 
and  glittered,  until  at  our  feet  it  disappeared  under  ground,  to 
emerge,  perhaps  at  lower  points  in  other  capacities.  How  much 
has  motion  to  do  with  the  loveliness  of  a  landscape  ! 

Passing  under  copses  of  shaggy-trunked  trees,  which  we  did 
very  leisurely,  we  are  invited  to  enter  cool,  rocky  retreats,  arti 
ficially  arranged,  and  not  without  their  fern  and  heather.  Here 
the  genius  of  Paxton  is  seen,  in  those  huge  masses  of  rock  which 
apparently  block  up  our  path,  but  yield  to  a  gentle  push  as  they 
swing  upon  their  pivots.  Rocking  stones  of  immense  weight  are 
around,  mobile  to  a  child's  strength.  Among  the  roots  of  pine 
trees  and  out  of  rocky  fissures,  little  rills  played,  and  laughed 
as  they  ran  around  stones  and  through  moss,  as  if  at  the  theatri 
cal  imposition  which  the  artificial  was  acting  for  our  admiration. 
Birds  hopped  and  chirruped  as  unconsciously  as  if  Nature  and 
not  Paxton  had  given  them  their  bowers.  But  the  cunning 
carollers, — we  did  not  see  any  of  them  alight  on  a  certain  tree, 
which  deceived  my  perception,  if  it  could  not  their  instinct.  A 
New  Haven  gentleman — a  wag,  by  the  way — wished  me  just  to 
examine  its  bark  ;  it  was  so  very  odd.  I  was  going  up  for  that 
purpose,  when  I  observed  the  tree  bleeding  water-drops  ;  and 
before  I  could  look  again,  to  be  sure  it  was  no  phantasy,  every 
point  and  pore  of  twig  and  branch  spurted  its.  jet,  and  the  turf 
under  my  feet  became  suddenly  alive  with  subtle  fountains  !  Of 
course,  I  retired.  Of  course.  I  was  food  for  merriment.  Of 
course,  invidious  remarks,  comparing  my  verdancy  with  the 
curious  vegetable  production,  were  made.  Of  course,  I  had  to 
join  the  roar  of  laughter.  '  New  Haven'  had  procured  the  guide 
to  say  the  '  Open  Sesame'  to  a  rock,  behind  which  he  touched  a 
spring,  whose  magic  proved  my  discomfiture  and  his  fun. 

It  was  by  this  rocky  path  that  we  went  to  see  the  Crystal 


432  ENGLISH  HUSBANDRY, 

Palace, — not  the  one  at  London,  but  its  progenitor,  the  original, 
built  by  Paxton,  and  from  which  he  designed  the  great  Exhibi 
tion  Palace.  This  looked  crystalline ;  it  had  no  painted  col 
umns,  by  scores  and  hundreds,  and  no  drapery ;  but  a  concave 
without  these,  of  clearest  glass,  so  arranged  as  scarcely  to  show 
the  sash,  and  all  strong.  Terraces,  hedges,  and  flowers  surround 
it ;  while,  in  the  lake  near,  a  fountain  plays  two  hundred  and 
eighty  feet  high  !  We  entered,  and  saw  the  same  beautiful 
arrangement  which  distinguishes  the  transept  of  the  Great 
Palace  ;  large  palms  and  blooming  creepers,  flowers  of  every 
clime,  dressed  in  their  gala  colors,  and  rocks  streaming  with 
tendrils  !  Some  idea  of  its  extent  may  be  had,  when  it  is  con 
sidered  that  there  are  in  the  building  seven  miles  of  six-inch 
heated  piping. 

Is  it  strange  that  such  magnificence  exists  where  there  are 
one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  gardeners  alone  engaged  ?  Or, 
with  such  an  immense  revenue  as  belongs  to  the  duke,  and  with 
such  a  manager  as  Paxton  ?  Before  leaving  the  domain,  you 
may  survey  it  from  a  tower,  so  erected  as  to  comprehend  all  its 
beauty.  There  is  no  smoke  to  obscure  the  view.  It  is  all  carried 
off  to  a  great  distance,  by  underground  flues.  The  very  coal 
used  by  so  many  hot-houses,  is  conveyed  by  a  subterranean  rail 
way.  The  farming  arrangements  and  the  village  without  the 
domain,  are  a  complement  to  what  I  have  faintly  pictured. 
The  village  is  the  model  of  England.  All  the  cottages  were 
either  Gothic  or  Swiss — of  stone,  exact  and  elegant,  with  grass 
and  flower-plots.  Surrounding  church  and  school-house  were 
linden-trees,  trimmed  neatly  and  inwoven  as  one,  meeting  and 
arching.  Could  there  be  scandal,  or  gossip,  or  backbiting,  or 
aught  but  harmony  in  such  a  paragon  of  a  town?  Sir  Thomas 
Moore,  in  the  picture  he  has  drawn  of  the  towns  of  Utopia,  so 
precise  and  perfect,  might  have  given  grace  to  the  drawing,  had 
a  Chatsworth  been  contemporaneous  with  his  time. 

The  owner  of  all  this  paradise  is  a  bachelor.  Hold  !  Not 
so  fast,  ladies  !  A  confirmed  bachelor,  a  bachelor  bound  hand 


AND   THE  BEAUTY  OF  CHATSWORTH.  433 

and  foot !  Some  difficulty  as  to  the  title  of  the  duke  was  started  ; 
which  was  hushed  by  an  arrangement  between  the  contending 
families.  The  duke  agreed  to  live  and  die  unmarried ;  so  that 
Lord  Mortington,  the  claimant,  should  be  his  heir.  The  duke 
is  old  and  infirm.  He  is  liberal  in  the  use  which  he  makes  of  his 
wealth.  His  fruitage  and  venison  load  the  tables  of  his  friends ; 
and  he  has  freely  opened  to  the  public  these  grounds  and  this 
palace,  where,  in  its  consummate  perfection,  the  luxury  of  the 
East  and  the  arts  of  Italy  vie  with  the  tasteful  elegance  of  France 
and  the  natural  beauties  of  Switzerland  and  Scotland  ;  and  where 
all  combine  to  render  Chatsworth  one  of  the  most  attractive  spots 
for  the  traveller  in  Great  Britain,  if  not  in  Europe. 

Such  spots  are  needed,  to  show  man  from  what  a  beautiful 
estate  he  has  fallen.  If  immense  fortunes  must  be  entailed,  let 
them  thus  be  transformed  into  the  poetry  and  music  of  nature, 
that  they  may  allay  or  divert  the  passions  and  perturbations  of 
our  sinful  state.  Sir  William  Temple  says',  that  human  life  is 
at  the  best  and  greatest  but  like  a  froward  child,  that  must  be 
played  with  and  humored  a  little  to  keep  it  quiet,  till  it  falls 
asleep,  and  then  the  care  is  over.  Then  why  not  please  it  with 
such  charms  as  Chatsworth  displays,  until  it  reposes  on  the 
bosom  of  its  mother  earth  ?  It  was  our  last — may  not  I  say — 
greatest  pleasure,  in  this  land  of  our  ancestors.  It  will  not  be 
forgotten,  until  we  repose  in  that  sleep  that  knows  no  waking. 
Will  it  then?  Not  if  a  thing  of  beauty  be  a  joy  forever. 

From  Sheffield,  through  Manchester,  a  huge,  compact,  black 
and  busy  city — we  have  returned  to  Liverpool,  where  all  the 
day  we  have  been  reading  letters  from  home — thinking  of  home, 
and  what  is  better,  packing  for  home,  whither  we  will  be  soon 
going. 


XXXVIII 

€\i  aJnrknp  far  Inmt 

"  Ever  drifting,  drifting,  drifting, 

On  the  shifting, 
Currents  of  the  restless  heart; 
Till  at  length  in  books  recorded, 

They  like  hoarded 
Household  words,  no  more  depart" 

Longfellow. 

IT  was  with  unwonted  alacrity  that  we  packed  our  luggage,  and 
called  our  last  cab  on  transatlantic  shores.  By  noon  of  the 
3d  of  September,  we  were  down  upon  the  Mersey's  brink,  await 
ing  the  return  of  the  tender,  which  was  to  bear  us  to  the  vessePs 
side.  Nearly  two  hundred  Americans  were  with  us  upon  that 
tender,  and  they  now  float  with  us  as  I  write.  We  did  not  feel 
much  reluctance  in  leaving  England.  With  our  faces  turned 
westward,  where  could  our  hearts  be,  but  westward — in  our  own 
blessed  home  !  The  perils  of  the  great  sea  are  forgotten ;  or 
what  is  worse,  its  disagreeableness  is  joyfully  encountered ;  for 
through  all,  we  see  smiling  the  faces  of  those  who  wait  to  wel 
come  our  return.  Liverpool  is  not  noted ;  its  superb  custom 
house  and  miles  of  docks  receive  no  encomium.  When  the  heart 
bounds  so  warmly,  the  eye  is  blind  to  external  things.  The 
Mersey's  green  banks  scarcely  are  thought  of;  for  there  comes 
the  greeting  of  friend  with  friend.  Old  companions  in  voyaging 
shake  hands,  laugh,  and  talk  over  scenes  that  they  have  viewed 
since  separation,  and  of  their  gladness  in  anticipating  their  re 
turn  to  America.  A  few  there  were  who  were  leaving  dear  friends 
in  England.  The  wave  of  the  handkerchief  from  steamer  and 


THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME.  435 

shore,  the  hancL-kissing,  the  tear-dropping,  the  stifled  sobbing ; 
did  they  not  bring  to  mind  our  own  parting,  when  the  Asia  cleft 
the  waves  of  New- York  harbor? 

The  mails  were  aboard,  the  guns  fired,  the  cheers  given  and 
answered  ;  and  the  noble  "  Pacific"  bore  away  with  as  hopeful  a 
cargo  of  humanity  as  ever  trod  a  steamer's  deck, — hopeful  in 
that  sense  which  antedates  the  joy  of  the  future  with  large  and 
generous  impulses. 

Our  first  two  days  out  were  pleasant  in  the  extreme.  I  be 
gan  to  think  myself  quite  a  sailor.  True,  the  channel  was  not 
rough ;  but  then  there  were  two  days  gone,  and  not  a  sign  of 
mine  ancient  enemy.  Not  even  his  advanced  guard  was  visible. 
I  began  to  tread  the  deck  proudly — looked  people  in  the  face, 
as  if  I  were  an  old  salt — perfectly  accustomed  to  nautical  ex 
periences.  Complacency  sat  serenely  on  my  front  like  '  Halcyon 
on  the  wave.'  Besides,  was  not  the  Pacific  a  larger  boat,  with 
less  rocking  and  rolling  than  the  Asia?  Bravely  I  marched 
down  to  dinner  ;  called  the  waiter  with  a  confidence  which  solid 
earth  might  have  inspired  ;  had  no  misgivings  but  that  travelling 
had  indurated  the  system  ;  in  fine,  conducted  myself  as  if  I  were 
already  a  triumphant  champion  over  the  insidious  foe.  The 
sequel  is  plain.  Pride  fell  with  the  Son  of  the  Morning  ;  why 
not  with  fallible  humanity  ?  I  felt,  rather  than  saw  my  enemy 
approach.  He  came  upon  a  tall  wave,  with  a  white  ensign,  and 
a  sparkling  lance.  His  first  blow  was  aimed  at  the  very  point 
of  the  system,  where  the  Ancients  seated  course.  If  the  citadel 
itself  was  beseiged.  where  were  the  outposts  ?  Not  without  a 
struggle  did  I  yield.  With  Sir  Jack,  I  may  now  say. '  that  had 
I  known  he  was  so  cunning  o'fence,  I  would  have  seen  him  d — d, 
ere  I  had  fought  him.'  I  marched  the  deck  with  determination, 
pursed  up  my  lip,  perked  up  my  eyebrows,  and  assumed  that 
serio-careless  air  which  seemed  to  say :  '  'tis  a  little  disturbance 
of  the  animal  economy — soon  be  right — good  ship — rather  like 
the  sea — it's  so  bracing — ahem  !'  But  it  would  not  do.  I  walked 
stoutly j  did  not  look  at  any  other  object  than  the  wheel-house, 


436  THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME. 

made  imaginary  speeches  to  evanescent  juries,  tried  every  ab 
straction  and  even  my  best  expedient,  viz.,  hummed  '"  Scot's  wha 
ha,'  and  whistled  that  air,  known  in  Buckeyedom,  as  the  '  big 
muster  tune,'  to  whose  inspiring  music  the  corn-stalk  militia  of 
the  Miami,  Sciota,  and  Muskingum  valleys  were  wont  to  march 
in  disorganized  and  timeless  array,  in  the  good  old  days  when 
training  was  the  duty  of  Ohio's  citizenry.  All  would  not  do. 
A  large  billow  gave  the  vessel  a  lurch  and  a  twist,  I  changed 
my  tune,  struck  my  colors,  and  with  more  precipitation  than 
grace,  retired  below.  In  the  piteous  strain  of  an  old  bard,  let 
me  ask, 

"Was  ever  mortal  wight  in  such  a  woeful  case?" 

Ask  me  not  to  renew  the  infandum  dolorem  of  the  six  sub 
sequent  days,  during  which  without  intermission  we  have  had 
tempestuous  weather.  How  the  winds  raved,  the  boat  snapped 
and  creaked,  the  waters  roared  and  the  rains  came  ;  these  are  a 
part  of  the  malignant  triumphings  of  my  enemy,  which  I  would 
fain  forget.  Yesterday  the  fog  enveloped  us ;  but  the  sun  soon 
shone  through,  the  Newfoundland  banks  were  near ;  the  sea  was 
calm  ;  and  it  was  said  by  a  few  tough  old  fellows  without  stom 
ach  or  sympathy,  who  had  been  on  deck  for  eight  days,  that  we 
had  stopped  on  the  banks  to  wood,  when  there  mysteriously  ap 
peared  on  deck  over  150  strange  passengers ! 
*  Ours  is  a  staireh  steamer.  She  has  braved  the  continuous 
storms  nobly.  True  we  have  lost  about  a  day  on  account  of  the 
weather  ;  but  on  our  worst  day  we  ran  two  hundred  and  thirty 
miles,  and  in  a  good  sea  we  can  run  three  hundred  and  thirty. 
I  will  not  undertake  to  compare  her  with  the  Cunard  steamers ; 
comparisons  are  odious  ;  but  for  elegant  saloons,  comfortable 
berths,  an  excellent  table  and  speed,  the  Pacific  has  no  superior, 
if  any  equal.  She  has  made  the  four  best  trips  ever  made  over 
the  Ocean,  except  the  one  great  great  trip  of  the  Baltic,  which 
Capt.  Nye  will  not  suffer  long  to  eclipse  his  fame. 


THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME.  437 

American  superiority  in  yatching,  whatever  may  be  said  of 
steaming,  was  fully  illustrated  last  month  at  Cowes,  by  the  saucy 
little  America,  who  ran  away  with  all  the  prizes,  while  she  upset 
the  English  idea  of  naval  superiority  in  a  manner  which  was 
only  equalled,  let  me  in  justice  say,  by  the  manly  courtesy  and 
civility  of  the  English  gentlemen  who  afforded  her  so  fair  an 
opportunity  of  beating  all  their  aristocratic  craft.  We  were 
constantly  congratulated  In  England,  on  the  America's  success. 
It  did  much  to  relieve  the  barren  aspect  of  our  part  of  the 
Great  Exhibition ;  for  at  one  swoop,  it  threw  down  all  the  mo 
dels  of  naval  architecture  which  adorned  the  west  end  of  the 
British  department. 

The  line  of  coast,  which  begins  to  grow  plainer,  indicates 
that  we  are  in  sight  of  our  own  continent.  It  does  not  strike 
us  as  our  own  country.  Bare,  bleak  and  uninhabited,  it  pre 
sents  its  cheerless,  rocky  edge  of  slanting  strata,  to  the  pitiless 
peltings  of  the  sea.  Shoals  of  black  fish  darken  the  water,  and 
the  spouting  of  whales  in  the  horizon  present  more  attractions 
than  this  inhospitable  shore  of  Newfoundland. 

But  that  shore  tells  me  that  we  shall  soon  be  home,  and 
leads  me  to  review,  before  I  conclude  these  sketches.  I  confess 
that  there  has  been  a  pleasure  imparted,  if  not  to  others  at  least 
to  myself,  in  recording  this  pilgrimage  and  currente  calamo,  gos 
siping  about  its  incidents.  There  is  now  to  my  mind  new 
meaning  in  Wordsworth's  verse  :  f  .^ 

"  Minds  that  have  nothing  to  confer, 
Find  little  to  perceive." 

It  is  a  truth,  though  a  paradox  in  mental  philosophy,  that  by 
sharing  your  spiritual  spoil,  you  add  to  it  |  for  you  instil  the 
prompture  which  moves  to  acquisition.  These  fugitive  pages 
have  been  a  constant  prompture,  a  pleasant  spur  to  observation. 
There  was  opportunity  for  conference  with  friends  and  kindred 
minds,  and  I  looked  with  closer  perception  for  the  best  subjects 
of  communion. 


438  THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME 

In  this  delightful  employment,  over  five  months  have  been 
passed.  What  a  season  of  ineffable  enjoyment  has  it  been ! 
What  a  life — a  novel  life  has  been  compressed  into  these  months  ! 
What  sacrifices  could  adequately  measure  the  rich  ingathering 
of  their  experience.  A  business  temporarily  left ;  the  results 
of  three  years  of  professional  labor  expended  in  a  summer ;  not 
alone  for  my  own  gratification,  but  for  that  of  a  companion,  who 
will  life-long  share  it;  the  aggravations  of  homelessness  en 
countered  upon  steamboat,  at  hotel,  in  coach  and  car,  contention 
with  strange  languages,  disagreeableness  upon  the  sea  and  the 
hazards  of  travel,  the  deprivation  from  worship  at  home  and 
at  church,  the  absence  of  friends  and  relations  whose  life  is 
bound  up  with  our  own  ;  all  these  are  the  sacrifices  we  have  made, 
not  the  least  among  which  is  that  constant  call  for  cash,  which 
the  bag  Peter  Schlemil  sold  his  shadow  for,  could  hardly  supply. 
What  have  we  in  return  ?  Memories,  eternal  as  our  nature.  Of 
what  ?  Ruins  which  are  histories ;  temples  which  are  chroni 
cles  ;  seas  and  shores  where  Crusader  and  Corsair,  Christian 
and  Infidel,  fought  and  gloried  ;  the  silence  of  deserted  and  ex 
humed  cities,  and  of  desolate  solitudes  in  the  mountain  passes 
and  heights  ;  the  magnificence  of  Art  in  her  present  phases, 
and  as  she  appears  in  the  vestiges  of  Antiquity  ;  the  recondite 
springs  of  the  world's  activity,  developing  forms  of  every  use 
and  variety,  enshrined  in  the  Palace  of  Industry  ;  the  splendid 
»  seats  of  Power^he  fields  of  blood  and  valor  ;  and  the  beautiful 
and  unadorned  scenes  of  nature  ;  all  instinct  with  their  past  pa 
geantry,  or  with  the  busy  energies  of  our  own  day.  Upon  the 
hot  pavements  of  the  Southern  city,  in  the  narrow  streets  of  the 
Eastern,  through  the  shady  promenades  of  the  gay  capitals  of 
Europe,  over  the  mountain  and  moor,  the  lake  and  river,  we 
have  sought  out  the  evidences  of  buried  civilization,  and  wit 
nessed  the  results  of  the  living.  We  have  stood  by  the  tombs 
of  the  great  and  the  gifted,  whose  names  were  a  terror  or  an 
honor  to  their  kind  ;  have  witnessed  the  ceremonies  and  devo 
tions  of  different  religions  in  their  splendid  structures,  and  have 


THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME.  439 

lingered  around  localities  which  the  warm  breath  of  enthusiasm, 
like  that  of  spring,  hath  bid  to  blossom  with  the  flower  and  per 
fume  of  Poetry.  Who  says  that  the  earth  is  cold  and  pulseless  ? 
Let  him  take  the  pilgrim  staff,  and  trace  upon  its  surface  its 
letters,  legible  with  the  stories  of  human  Passion  and  Love. 
Within  its  rocky  bosom  there  throbs  the  heart  of  Humanity  ? 
and  every  pulsation  plays  its  part  in  that  economy  of  Providence, 
which  is  the  key  to  all  revolutions,  and  to  all  philosophy,  which 
reconciles  every  contradiction  in  morals  and  physics,  and  is  the 
fulfilment  of  every  prophecy. 

What  new  significance  will  we  find  in  the  poetry,  the  romance, 
the  philosophy  and  history  of  the  world  !  What  rivets  for  recol 
lection  have  been  forged  by  these  journeyings  !  What  lessons 
have  we  conned  of  the  relations  of  man  to  man  in  society  !  How 
flimsy  and  meaningless  seem  the  distinctions  of  wealth,  which 
some  draw  even  in  America,  when  we  reflect  upon  the  riches 
that  we  have  seen  adorning  nature  by  art,  calling  every  luxury 
upon  the  sumptuous  board,  and  every  decoration  around  the 
tomb  of  the  departed  !  How  much  more  do  we  love  to  contem 
plate  man,  as  man,  undisguised  by  the  frippery  of  rank,  and 
ennobled  by  his  native  dignity  !  As,  in  passing,  we  have  realized 
the  existence  of  place  after  place,  and  object  after  object,  of 
which  we  had  read,  and  which  slept  in  the  twilight  of  uncertain 
ty,  a  deeper  confidence  in  human  veracity  has  been  inspired,  and 
a  firmer  faith  in  the  Invisible  and  Eternal  established ! 

And  yet  travelling  has  its  drawbacks  in  social  cultivation. 
Where  so  much  want  and  beggary  is  seen,  and  which  not  even 
Fortunatus,  with  his  purse,  could  relieve,  the  heart  is  apt  to 
grow  callous  to  misery.  Oh  !  it  is  not  in  the  broad  gairish  sunshine 
of  the  world  that  the  gentler  affections  flourish  best,  but  in  the 
security  and  seclusion  of  home.  The  sweetest  and  tenderest 
flowers  are  the  offspring  of  the  shade.  Under  the  domestic  roof, 
the  primal  duties  are  best  observed.  From  the  window  of  home 
they  are  seen  "  to  shine  aloft  like  stars." 

Some  people  estimate  the  attraction  of  an  object  by  the  dis- 


440  THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME. 

tance  from  which  it  may  draw  the  beholder  (a  truth  in   science, 
if  not  in  travelling),  without  regard  to  its  intrinsic  merit.     So 
do  not  I.     In  this  age  of  steam  locomotion,  in  which  even  so 
unsophisticated  a  traveller  as  the  writer  has  travelled  over  four 
teen  thousand  miles  in  five  months,  the  fashion  is  becoming  stale 
of  judging  beauty  by  its  latitude,  or  sublimity  by  its  longitude. 
As  well  judge  of  the  sublimity  of  Niagara  by  its  furlongs  from 
Columbus,  or  the  glory  of  Waterloo  by  its  acres.     We  have 
endeavored  to  detect  the  natural  and  artificial  beauty,  or  recall 
the  classic  allusion  and  historic  association  of  the  locality,  and 
thus  present  it  for  your  eye.     We  were  the  more  inclined  to 
observe  this  rule,  from  some  excellent  strictures  of  an  Edinburgh 
Reviewer,  which  we  perused  last  spring.     He   said,  that  the 
tourist  just  returned  from  Switzerland,  looked  down  with  a  su 
perior  air  on  the  visitor  of  the  Rhine ;  that  he  who  had  reached 
Rome  was  subdued  into  silence  before  him  who  had  scaled  Ve 
suvius  ;  while  the  few  who  had  actually  seen  the  East,  were 
marked  men,  and  excited  a  kind  of  envy  among  the  holiday  herd 
of  wanderers  whom  their  presence  reduced  to  insignificance.    He 
Bays  well,  that  there  is  no  real  distinction  in  having  measured 
thousands  of  miles,  pent  up  with  mobs  of  fellow  creatures  in 
steamers  and  inns;  for  the  smartest  young  Oxonian  scarcely 
ventures,  in  mixed  society,  to  open  his  budget  of  stories  about 
the  new  hotel  at  Constantinople,  or  the  old  guide  to  Jerusalem, 
when  the  odds  are,  that  some  one  of  the  company  is  fresh  from 
California,  or  the  trans-Himalayan  regions.     The  importance 
attached  to  long  journeys  merely  is  thus  dying  away. 

If  I  should  ever  open  my  little  budget  too  vauntingly,  let 
some  friend  remind  me  of  an  acquaintance  I  made  going  into 
Smyrna.  He  was  a  Greek,  and  the  only  model  of  the  age  of 
Pericles  I  had  seen — a  very  Alcibiades  in  the  elegance  of  his 
person,  and  the  accomplishment  of  his  manners.  He  was  a  black- 
eyed,  black-haired  gentleman,  with  a  face  hirsute,  yet  beaming 
with  intelligence.  He  had  been  educated  in  some  Italian  Uni 
versity,  and  was  a  thorough  scholar,  especially  in  the  classic 


THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME.  441 

Greek.  He  had  left  his  parents  fourteen  years  before,  for  his 
travels,  and  was  just  returning.  He  spoke  French  like  a  Paris 
ian,  German  very  well,  Russian  well,  English  tolerably,  and  also 
the  Turkish  and  his  vernacular  Greek.  He  was  not  illy  versed 
in  the  language  of  the  Arab,  and  some  others  of  the  Asiatic 
tribes. 

No  wonder  that  he  was  such  an  encyclopedias  linguist.  He 
had  travelled  from  Asia,  through  Italy,  France,  Germany,  Eng 
land,  and  into  Russia,  where,  having  engaged  in  Caucasian  and 
Siberian  expeditions,  he  was  led  into  Asia  again.  He  had  tra 
versed  the  most  inaccessible  parts  of  Caucasia  and  Georgia,  had 
roved  among  the  Tartars,  and  exchanged  hyperboles  with  the 
Persian.  The  most  inhospitable  races  in  the  world,  as  well  as 
the  most  difficult  places  to  enter,  may  be  found  in  the  mountains 
of  Asia ;  yet  these  races  he  had  lived  with,  and  these  difficulties 
surmounted.  He  had  not  travelled  without  an  object.  With  a 
pocket  edition  of  Xenophon,  he  had  followed  that  martial  scholar 
in  his  retreat  with  the  "  ten  thousand ;"  and  had  verified  the 
account  given,  parasang  by  parasang,  and  object  after  object. 
He  had  gone  with  Jason  to  Colchis — a  perilous  journey  even 
yet  (although  Colonel  Doniphan's  march  during  the  Mexican 
war  is  far  more  wonderful  than  either  Xenophon's  or  Jason's 
adventure),  in  search  of  the  Argonautic  fleece  of  gold.  With 
perils  among  snows  and  deserts,  from  poniards,  starvation  and 
war,  he  had  at  last  reached  his  home,  where  he  proposed  remain 
ing,  in  order  to  reduce  his  experience  to  writing,  and  publish  it 
in  French  at  Paris.  But  I  doubt  if  such  a  nomad  remain  long 
in  Smyrna.  His  eye  was  already  wandering  over  the  ruins  of 
Central  America  and  Peru,  which  he  wished  to  see,  in  order  to 
verify  some  favorite  hypotheses  in  relation  to  the  Asiatic  and 
American  races.  I  gave  him  a  list  of  American  books  which 
treat  upon  the  subject.  These  will  but  fan  the  sparks  into  a 
blaze ;  in  which  he  wHl  go  off,  perhaps  in  search  of  the  Hesper- 
ides,  or  Isles  of  the  Blest,  beyond  the  setting  sun,  of  which  his 
favorite  Grecian  poets  so  rapturously  sing. 


442  THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME. 

With  such  an  adventurer  yet  alive  on  the  earth,  would  it  not 
be  wise  to  be  chary  of  displaying  one's  limited  travelling  expe 
rience,  and  to  adopt  the  best,  as  well  as  the  true  touchstone, 
which  ever  tests  the  objects  seen  by  their  intrinsic,  and  not  by 
any  adventitious  merit. 

By  this  touchstone  I  would  desire  to  test  my  native  country  ; 
and  would  call  upon  the  census  returns,  just  taken,  for  my  facts 
and  figures.  By  the  same  touchstone,  I  would  desire  to  test  my 
native  Buckeye  State.  She  has  not  a  long  line  of  heraldry- 
renowned  in  war,  and  great  in  council ;  but  she  has  yet  in  her 
midst  many  of  her  own  pioneers — honest,  hardy  and  true — who 
have  seen  her  grow  in  a  half  century  from  a  wilderness,  support 
ing  a  few  Indians  by  its  game,  into  a  State  with  nearly  two  mil 
lions  of  free  people,  and  outgrowing  her  old  constitution,  and 
within  that  time  forced  by  the  expansive  spirit,  and  the  in 
creased  prosperity  of  her  people,  to  adopt  a  new  organic  law  ! 
She  has  not  ruins  and  temples,  basilicas  and  minsters ;  but  she 
has  great  cities  rising  in  the  might  of  sleepless  energy  ;  and  all 
the  product  of  a  few  years.  Well  may  the  philosopher  and 
economist  wonder  at  the  results  attained  by  the  Republic  of  the 
New  World.  Her  progress,  her  civilization,  her  polity,  her 
comforts  and  amenities  of  life,  and  her  prosperity,  have  no  paral 
lel  in  the  history  of  nations.  Those  who  are  in  her  midst  are 
not  conscious  of  this  supremacy.  From  the  shores  of  the  Old 
World  one  can  gaze  at  the  United  States,  with  a  full  appreciation 
of  its  truth,  and  return  to  its  bosom  to  mingle  with  her  masses, 
with  a  citizen's  pride,  that  no  display  of  royalty,  or  glitter  of 
rank,  no  monuments  of  past  glory  or  evidences  of  present  power, 
from  the  Bosphorus  to  the  Thames,  can  mortify  or  humble.  If 
more  of  our  young  men  could  see  the  nations  of  the  Old  World, 
as  to  whose  enfranchisement  from  galling  tyrannies  the  heart 
almost  ceases  to  hope ;  if  they  could  breathe  the  stifled  air. 
which  must  not  hear  a  whisper  of  liberalism  ;  and  then  contem 
plate  our  own  free  country,  rising  in  the  greatness  of  her  strength 
and  instinct  with  the  prompting  of  Destiny ;  would  there  not  be 


THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME.  443 

instilled  into  the  heart  a  warmer  love  and  purer  devotion  to 
their  own  native  land  ? 

The  "  Buckeye  abroad,"  will  soon  be  a  Buckeye  at  HOME. 
The  kindly  air  is  blowing  from  the  '  sweet  South.'  The  fogs 
are  left  upon  the  banks.  The  sun  shines  pleasantly.  Boston  is 
on  our  west.  To-morrow  morning,  and  we  are  in  New- York ! 
But  within  the  last  few  days,  time  has  not  hung  so  heavily. 
We  have  on  board  a  songstress,  Miss  Hayes  and  troupe,  going 
to  New- York  to  rival  Jenny  Lind.  Yesterday  a  concert  came 
off  for  the  benefit  of  the  gallant  tars  and  firehien,  who  brought 
us  safely  out  of  the  gales.  Nearly  two  hundred  dollars  were 
raised  ;  Miss  Hayes  warbled  and  Braham  sang,  with  a  potency 
that  calmed  the  sea  ;  and  it  was  said,  drew  shoals  of  fish  after 
our  steamer,  which,  considering  that  we  were  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  fisheries,  was  not  so  remarkable  a  phenomenon.  As  to  our 
dinner  speeches,  our  hurrahs,  our  cheerful  inventions  to  pass 
time  ;  as  to  these  minor  matters,  I  need  not  now  speak.  Par 
don  me,  that  occasionally  I  have  indulged  in  the  light,  where 
there  is  so  much  of  the  serious  to  be  written  about.  I  fear  to 
attempt  the  profound  ;  lest  it  turn  into  the  heavy,  which  even 
the  inspiration  of  the  old  world,  with  its  thronging  multitude  of 
interests,  could  not  relieve.  But  my  readers  will  do  me  the 
justice  to  gay,  that  where  Antiquity  was  present  as  a  power,  and 
God  was  visible  in  the  grandeur  of  his  works,  I  have  not  in 
dulged  in  the  frivolous.  There  is  one  part  of  the  tourist's  re 
cord,  which  has  not  regaled  my  readers.  Have  I  made  mouths 
over  meals,  called  on  the  reader  to  condole  with  my  boiled  egg 
or  pudding,  or  to  swear  at  Boots  while  I  stood  in  stocking  feet 
bawling  in  bad  French?  Have  I  dilated  upon  the  want  of 
water  in  my  pitcher,  or  grumbled  like  John  Bull  at  the  in 
famous  charges  of  landlords  ?  Content  to  eat  what  I  could,  and 
surprised  to  find  the  world  so  much  more  honest  than  it  has 
credit  for — I  have  endeavored  to  realize  my  childhood's  dream 
and  boyhood's  wonder,  by  finding  in  the  scenes  of  the  Old 
World  an  enchantment  and  a  Presence,  which  in  the  repose  of 
home.  Memory  will  'unwillingly  let  die.' 


444  THE  BUCKEYE  FOR  HOME. 

The  cry  is  that  Rhode  Island  is  in  sight  !  Oh  !  but  that 
sounds  like  home  !  Little  Rhody  ;  in  whose  University  so 
many  months  were  passed  conning  over  scenes  which  the  last 
summer  has  realized — next  to  Ohio,  she  seems  my  own  native 
State.  May  not  the  pilgrim  now  conclude  his  wanderings,  in  the 
language  of  Sir  John  Mandeville,  that  veracious  and  quaint  old 
traveller,  whose  marvels  he  read  in  the  old  halls  upon  that  shore  : 
*  I  have  passed  manye  landes  and  manye  yles  and  contrees,  and 
cherched  (found)  manye  fulle  straunge  places,  and  have  ben  in 
manye  fulle  gode  honourable  companye.  Now  I  am  comen  home 
to  reste.  And  thus  have  I  recorded  the  tyme  passed.' 


THE    END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 


OCTJ6197072 


W1NU  I97I  7  0 

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